Gunning Down Romance
by CatharsisAddict
Summary: The lives of the interns are in shambles in the wake of a tragic accident. But something far more sinister threatens to destroy another Grace's doctor's very life. A story about death and how love can sometimes bring us back from the very brink.
1. Prologue

_Love and other moments are just  
Chemical reactions in your brain, in your brain.  
And feelings of aggression are the absence  
Of the love drug in your veins, in your veins.  
_

It's raining again. Like everyday, it's raining. In Seattle, that's not such a big deal. It's life. Rain, that's an everyday occurrence. And in a world where anything can happen, everyday occurrences, things that can be counted on? Well, they're kind of comforting. Don't you think so?

A man walks into a bar. He's angry about something, that's obvious from the way he slams the door open, and from the way he goes right to the counter and asks for his drink. Desperately in need of it, he seems to be, too, judging from the way his whole body seems to slump when he sits down in the corner. His dark hair is damp from the rain, and he runs his hands through it before downing his shot of scotch. Swallow.

He doesn't look relieved. Two hours and twelve shots later, he still looks awful. Nothing's changed, except that now he's drunk and his hair is dry.

And the man over in the other corner is looking at him as though he'd like to kill him with his bare hands.

_Love come quickly 'cause I feel my  
Self-esteem is caving in, it's on the brink.  
Love come quickly 'cause I don't think  
I can keep this monster in, it's in my skin.  
_

Several days later, another enters the bar. She looks beaten, so exhausted that she might just give up completely. She drags herself to the bar and drops onto one of the stools. The bartender sees her and smiles, lending support. They must be friends. He makes his way over and asks how she is. She asks for tequila. He looks down at her down-turned blonde head and nods knowingly.

She makes her way through several shots before she even begins to talk about why she's there.

It's still raining. Rain is a constant in Seattle. One of the only things that you can count on. Anything else is too erratic to depend on.

_Love and other socially acceptable emotions  
Are morphine, they're morphine,  
Cleverly concealing primal urges often felt  
But rarely seen, rarely seen._

GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA

_Love, I beg you, lift me up into  
That privileged point of view, the world of two.  
Love, don't leave me, because I console myself  
That Hallmark cards are true, I really do.  
_

Everything was dark. Blackness. She found it comfortable for a while. She drifted there for a very long time, letting her mind ramble along the warm, velvet black. But after a while, she noticed an irritating beeping. It was loud and coarse, and it made her haven of darkness suddenly feel stifling. And as the encroaching beeping refused to stop, she found herself struggling with the suffocating dark. Suddenly, she couldn't breathe. She felt as though there was something strangling her, choking her, something inside her _throat_.

_Get it out, get it out, get it out..._

She fought with her eyelids, and slowly, surely, she won the battle. She dragged them open, and then wished that she hadn't.

The walls were a white she knew so well. Through the half-open door, she saw a hallway that she knew as well as the hallways in her own home. There were the monitors and the instruments and the beeping coming from a machine just to the side of her head. She knew everything about them. She knew how they worked, and what they did, and exactly how to use them.

Yes, the hospital she knew.

What she didn't know was why she was the one in the bed and not the person looking down on her.

And there was still that _thing _inside of her throat. She started gagging on it, violently convulsing and spitting, trying to eject whatever was inside of her. She heard someone suddenly yelling her name, and she saw hands fumbling in front of her face. She watched as the tube was pulled away and her spluttering turned into ragged coughs that tore at her raw throat.

"Meredith! Mer, It's okay. It's okay, you're okay, it's okay." Meredith knew the voice, it tugged at her, she knew it. Her head was fuzzy and suddenly the room seemed to dim. As the white walls slowly faded to black, she heard that familiar, desperate voice repeating those words like a mantra.

"You're okay, Mer, you're okay..."

_I'm gunning down romance,  
It never did a thing for me  
But heartache and misery.  
Ain't nothing but a tragedy._

Meredith drifted again. But the darkness was not so empty this time. The first thing she saw were streetlights. They were dim, the pictures in her mind in black and white. Everything was slightly blurred, and she was having trouble focusing. She heard a screech, and then a horrible crunching, like someone was crushing a pop can. She heard screams. She saw a broken windshield. And then there was nothing. Just the dark.

She came to with a jolt. Her eyes snapped open and she registered again with surprise her surroundings. What had she expected? She silently scolded herself for fooling herself into believing that it had been a dream. Why couldn't she just face things, for one goddamn time in her- No. That would lead to memories that she could not escape from. She fled from them before they had a chance to capture her.

Instead, she tried to figure out why she was the patient instead of the doctor. Why was she the one in the bed? What had she been doing before... whatever it was that had happened before.

She had worked. She knew that. She could remember holding a scalpel in her hands quite clearly, remember the surgery high. That had been today. But after. What had happened after?

Meredith scowled. This was useless. All she was succeeding in doing was frustrating herself. Of course she had worked today. She was always working. It was the only thing that she could find happiness in anymore. Ever since- No. No, no, no. Do not think about that. You will end up doing nothing but hurting yourself.

But that was why she enjoyed work.

When she was cutting, she didn't think of him.

_I'm gunning down romance,  
It never did a thing for me  
But heartache and misery.  
Ain't nothing but a tragedy.  
_

GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA

_God, oh, god._

_What will I do?_

_What would I do if she was gone?_

Christina was curled up in a tiny ball in the corner of a very dark on-call room. She was alone- she'd made sure of that. To be surrounded by everyone else, everyone else who was freaking out about Meredith, that she could not take. She was Christina. She was the professional one, the detached one, the one that was cold and distant and who never ever got personally involved.

But right now she was so far from distant, and it terrified her.

It was her fault. Why hadn't she stayed with Meredith? Why hadn't she been there? She had known that she was wasted. She knew that Meredith was empty and that when Mer was empty, she filled the void with tequila. God, Christina, why couldn't you just be there? You should have been there.

Another tear rolled down her cheek, and the sobbing started again.

_Love, don't leave me.  
Take these broken wings,  
I'm going to take these broken wings.  
_

GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA

_And learn to fly,  
And learn to fly away._

_I'm gunning down romance_.

What the hell had she done today? Meredith reflected on that strange dream that she'd had. When the screaming had started, she had been terrified. Scared out of her mind. The dream had been so vivid, even with the blurriness. Like it had been real...

_Real._

_Oh my god._

What the hell had she done?

_And learn to fly,  
And learn to fly away.  
I'm gunning down romance_.


	2. Broken

**Disclaimer: I do not own Grey's Anatomy. I may want to own Grey's, but I don't. The only thing that I own is the crazy obsession that I have for it.**

**Okay. I have finally figured out all the stupid little details about uploading stuff onto this website, so this should post the way I want it to. So hey! My writing is dark and twisty, only way I know how, so this may be a little bit depressing. Flashbacks, thoughts, and lyrics are in italics. I also changed the storyline a little bit, so there are bits from the prologue that may not make sense anymore, but let's not be little here. The important thing is that I am WRITING, which is a huge thing. I am uploading, 'cause I got two reviews (YAY!) and I am not going to let you two readers go without another chapter when I promised you one. Plus, I am in the ZONE right now, and I am very proud of my wonderfully long (for me) chapter. YAHOO! Okay, but that's enough of that. Get reading!**

* * *

_People say he don't look well,_

_But all he needs from what I can tell_

_Is someone to help wash away all the paint_

_From his purple hands before it gets too late._

Dawn was breaking over Seattle. The golden rays leaked through the blinds on Meredith's hospital room window, and she awoke. She was used to waking with the sun, and besides, the fog of pain medication had worn off overnight, so it took very little to wake her. She had spent the better part of the night trying to figure out why she was here, why she was bandaged, connected to a heart monitor and had an IV in her arm. She hadn't been visited by anyone throughout her uneasy night save the nurse that had come to administer more pain medication. She had bustled in and left before Meredith could ask her questions, and then the morphine had kicked in.

Yes, the only sleep that Meredith had gotten that night was drug induced. So when the sun rose, she rose with it.

Luckily for Meredith, she was not alone when she opened her eyes.

"Hey. What took you so long?" Christina rubbed her eyes and looked up at the woman who's side had not left since she got there at two o'clock in the morning. That was when her sobbing had died down and she could trust herself to leave the on-call room without breaking down in the hallway.

"Hey," whispered Meredith, surprised to hear her voice so hoarse. She examined her friend's eyes, as they were suspiciously red and swollen. She thought about asking about them, but it would make Christina uncomfortable. Besides, Meredith wasn't sure that she was up to getting the true answer out of her. So instead she asked, "What time is it?"

"Just after six." Christina paused. "Do you want to know what happened or have you put it together yet?"

Meredith thought about laughing at how well Christina knew her and then remembered how sore her throat hurt. She nodded. "Oh, please."

"Umm...," Christina got up and turned away from Meredith, broken on the bed. She'd hoped that Mer had figured it out for herself. She didn't want to tell her what had happened. This was hard enough. She didn't want to watch Meredith break more. She was already broken enough, wasn't she? Wasn't she?

_Why me?_

And then came the obvious answer.

Because you're her person.

She turned back to Meredith, whose face was now lined with worry. What was wrong with her?

"Mer, you were in a car accident. You, um, you were coming home with Izzie and she was, um, she was driving."

Meredith frowned. Christina didn't stutter.

"She was driving and she ran a red light and hit another car head on. You broke your right leg, a few ribs, and you have a hairline fracture on your skull."

"Oh." She should have known that. She'd remembered that, hadn't she? "Is that it?" She was suddenly relieved. She was going to be okay.

"No, Mer. That's not it."

_What? Not it?_

_Oh my god._

"What about Izzie?"

Christina's face told Meredith everything that she needed to know.

"Oh my god, Christina! Izzie? Don't look at me like that! No, no, no, tell me she's all right, tell me!"

She dissolved into tears and Christina found herself crumbling. There was no point in telling the rest of the story. All that mattered now was that Izzie was gone and they could not turn back the clock. There was nothing they could do but cry.

So Christina went to Meredith and kept the rest of the story to herself.

Hours later, when crying had shrunk the hole that Izzie's death had left in Meredith's heart down to a throbbing ache instead of an earth-shattering pain, Christina left Meredith's bedside to go home and take a shower with the promise that she would be back in an hour. Meredith had no idea what to do. Should she call someone? Do something? She was confined to her bed by her broken bones, so doing anything was out of the question. She could only lie in her horrible hospital bed and wish.

_I wish Izzie was here._

_I wish it had been me._

_I wish I was dead._

_I wish Derek was here._

No.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

She had not just wished for him. No. She hadn't.

But she had.

And now all her carefully built and maintained walls came crumbling down.

Why wasn't he here? Where was he? Why hadn't he at least talked to her before leaving?

Where could he have gone?

And then all the memories came back to her.

"_Another one, Joe," Meredith slurred, shaking her empty shot glass at him. He walked over and filled the tiny glass with more tequila. "That's it. You're kinda great, y'know that Joe? You, if you, if you weren't gay, I'd take you home right now." She smacked the counter for emphasis._

"_You too, Mer." He smiled at her. He knew her well enough to know that she was actually right. Meredith was drunk, and getting drunk and sleeping with inappropriate men was her thing. But Joe was protecting her tonight. He knew that if she brought home anyone she wouldn't be able to live with herself tomorrow._

"_That's right! I'm pretty, right, Joe?"_

"_You are."_

"_Right! I'm pretty. I could have any of the guys in this bar, couldn't I, Joe?"_

"_You could." He leaned in conspiratorially. "But none of them are good enough for you."_

"_Really?" she whispered._

"_Yeah."_

"_Who is good enough for me?" She looked around the bar, trying to pick one of the unworthy men to take home with her._

"_Shepherd. He's the _only_ guy who's good enough."Joe thought that this was a brilliant strategy to keep her from accidentally cheating on her boyfriend._

"_But Joe," Meredith's voice dropped as she suddenly looked vulnerable and frightened, "I haven't seen him for six days. He hasn't called me or nothing,"She stuck out her lower lip in a pout._

"_He'll come around, Mer." Joe looked up and smiled widely. "Your ride's here."_

"_Hey Izzie," Meredith said over-affectionately, climbing off her stool and staggering over to her blonde friend. She gave her a large hug, and Izzie looked over at Joe with exasperation written all over her face._

"_Let's go, Mer. You have to work tomorrow." Izzie half-carried her inebriated friend out the door. "See you, Joe," she called over her shoulder._

"_Drive home safe," he called out to her just before the door shut behind them._

Meredith covered her mouth with her battered hands to keep in the sobs. It was her fault. Her fault.

_I'm so sorry._

_He may move slow_

_But that don't mean he's going nowhere._

* * *

**And _that_ is chapter two. I am sorry for killing Izzie. I actually really am. Originally, I was going to have Meredith be driving, and have her hit a car and kill a little girl, but then I realized that's vehicular manslaughter and driving under the influence, and then I'd have to send Meredith to jail, and there goes my whole storyline. So I killed Izzie instead. Besides, Izzie's been driving me crazy, first with the bitchiness towards Callie and then the selfishness and then Gizzie, so I don't really feel that bad for her. But I am sorry that I killed her.**

**So Meredith thinks that it's her fault that Izzie's dead, and Derek is MIA. Where is he, you ask? Well, do you really need me to tell you right now? Is he freaking out about commitment? Has he fallen in the river while fishing? Is he undergoing sexual reassignment surgery because he's finally realized that he's a woman inside? Well, do you really need me to tell you? Or can you wait?**


	3. Ask Me How I Am

**Disclaimer- If I owned Grey's, Gizzie would never had even been thought of. If any writer so much as suggested it, they would be fired before they could say 'Jeez, it was just an idea!' I think it's pretty obvious that I don't own it.**

**I should probably say that in my mind, Gizzie never occurred. NEVER, you hear me? I'm saying this because I'm going to have George and Callie in this chapter, and I'm am ignoring Gizzie completely.**

**This chapter is going to switch between the POV's of the characters that I haven't talked about, because the easiest way of showing you what they're going through is to show you what they're thinking. Enjoy!

* * *

**

_I've not made amends for yesterday;  
My lips won't get me out of it.  
Waking up dreading hearing tales  
Of all my nightmares being true_.

"How is she?" Burke asked, watching his fiancee's drawn face with concern. He knew that although Christina was nowhere as close to Izzie as she was to Meredith, she had, in her own way, loved her. The interns were a family, and one of their own had been lost to them forever.

"She's... she's going to be all right. I think she's going to be all right." She sighed and allowed herself to be held by him. "Where the hell is Shepherd? Has he picked up his phone yet?"

"No." Burke frowned, remembering the dozens of times that he had dialled his friend's number. "It's like he just disappeared. It's not like him to go off like this without telling anyone."

"God. How did everything get so screwed up? Yesterday I was looking for the best cases, freaking out about stupid things like how I was going to convince you that it's to soon to set a date and today Izzie's dead and Meredith could have died too. And Shepherd's gone? Everything's just, and it's, it's just so, so..." Christina's voice began to falter, so Burke put his finger to her lips.

"Stop. I know. It's okay. It'll be okay." he lifted her face towards his and pressed a gentle kiss to her quivering lips.

He didn't say it out loud, but inside, he was terrified of what that meant. Christina was breaking down. _Christina_. She was Christina Yang. She never broke down, never let herself be weak.

But he was Preston Burke. He was never frightened or unsure. So he kept his fears to himself.

GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA

He had snuck out of the hotel room at two in the morning. He couldn't deal with Callie's sympathetic glances and comforting touches. He couldn't deal with being around her. She kept saying how sorry she was, but he knew that she had never liked Izzie. That wasn't even her fault, but it didn't help the fact that he couldn't deal with her right now.

So he had fled. But then he had nowhere to go, so here he was, in his car looking out at the hospital parking lot.

George was once a happy person. An optimist, at least most of the time. He was the sweetest child, the son who was the most sensitive. He was the most caring. His mother said that was why he had become a doctor. He was sensitive and caring.

But then he had come to Seattle Grace.

George's happiness had suffered a major blow when he had slept with Meredith. He had loved her, in his way, and to rejected like _that_, well, that had all but sucked the happiness from George's life.

Then George met Callie. She was not just the rebound girl. No, she was so much more. She was his everything. She loved him, and although it had taken time, he loved her too. Izzie hadn't gotten that, had not accepted it, but it was true.

And now Izzie was gone and she'd never be able to see the truth about Callie.

George knew it was selfish. He knew that he was being horribly self-centred, that being the thing that he was most heartbroken over. But he had never gotten Izzie to understand how much he loved Callie, and now he'd never get that chance back.

He wanted to go back to work, to be doing something, but he knew that he'd never be able to hold himself together in the face of so many other people being saved when Izzie had not been, and so many dying just like his best friend.

It was so unfair.

All he wanted was just a little bit more time. Why couldn't he just have that?

He used to believe that the universe rewarded good people and punished the bad ones. That there was karma, that you received the same amount of joy that you put into the world.

Now he didn't know what he believed.

GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA

They called him an ass, insensitive, rude, uncaring. Everyone said that he cared about no one but himself. But if that was true, why did he feel like curling up into a ball on the floor and never getting up again? For the first time in his life, Alex wanted to be the uncaring ass that everyone thought he was. Then he wouldn't be feeling this pain.

He had not loved Izzie. At the beginning, after she had dumped him for Denny, he had imagined that he loved her. He knew better now. He knew that he had just been hurt, that his ego had been bruised, he knew that now.

But then he had pulled her off of Denny's cold body. There was no way that anyone could do that and not feel some kind of love for her. He had not loved her.

Not like that.

But he had loved her. She was part of this family that they all belonged to. Even though they could hate each other sometimes, they all loved each other. And now she was gone.

Alex was shattered. He was lying on the dirty floor of his tiny apartment's bathroom, and there was no one there to pick up the pieces.

GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA

Callie had never liked Isobel Stevens. She had never been kind to Callie. Instead, she had been challenging and rude in not-so-obvious ways. She had never accepted Callie as a part of George's life, refused to see her as anything more than the rebound girl. No, Izzie had never liked Callie so Callie had never liked her.

Now she regretted it.

George had loved her. She knew that he hadn't loved her in _that way_, but he had loved her, and now he was broken. She found herself wishing that she had fixed things with Izzie, become her friend or at least made things peaceful between the two of them before... this.

Now she wanted to take back all the words, all barbs that they had thrown at one another, because right now she wanted to take care of George.

But she couldn't because she had no idea what he was going through. He wouldn't let her take care of him, she could see the irritation in his eyes when she tried to tell him that he could talk to her. That's why she'd pretended to be asleep and let George leave their bed in the middle of the night, because she knew that was all she could do for him.

She was left all alone in their dark hotel room, wishing that she could make herself cry.

GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA

Even at the very beginning, Stevens had been the intern that had disarmed Bailey the most. She had taken Bailey aback when she'd called Grey out on her secret affair with Shepherd. She had made Bailey doubt her abilities as a teacher when she cut Denny Duquette's LVAD wire. She had challenged Bailey's insistence on the 'no touching, no talking' rules that she'd laid down when Stevens had come back to the hospital.

And now she had caused Bailey to disintegrate into this pathetic woman who couldn't stop the tears that streamed down her cheeks.

Bailey was good at hiding her affection for her interns. She tried her hardest to make them think that the only reason she stood up for them was that they were her responsibility. She was going to have a hard time convincing anyone that she didn't like her interns now.

Izzie had been one of her interns. They were not her children, and she didn't think of them like that. But that was the best analogy she had for her feelings for them right now.

She had raised them like any mother would raise their children. She had watched them mature, watched them become the doctors that they would be. She had witnessed their joys, their triumphs, their failures, and their heartbreaks.

She had tried to protect them.

She had failed.

GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA

Meredith was falling, falling into some kind of pit where everything was dark and full of sorrow and guilt and helplessness. It was all she could do not to scream out in horror, but she didn't want one of the nurses to come with the pity and sedatives. This was to be her punishment for what she had done.

She had killed Izzie.

She knew that it wasn't actually her fault, that she hadn't been the sidewalk that Izzie had flown into. But she could not get past the guilt. If she hadn't been the dysfunctional one, the one that tried to drown out the world with tequila, Izzie would not have been driving her home. She would not have run the red light trying to get Meredith's wasted self home. And she would not have slammed into that semi and flown through the windshield.

So Meredith was drowning in her guilt.

She wished more than anything that Derek was here. That he could be here holding her and wiping away her tears, telling her that it was not her fault.

Why had she felt the need to fight with him? She had started the fight that had lead to his week-long absence.

_I'm always gonna show up. Even if I yell. Even if you yell. I'm always gonna show up._

Yeah, right.

_Like you're showing up right now?_

_I need you._

Where the hell had he gone?

GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA

Derek had not disappered on purpose. In fact, he would give just about anything to appear next to Meredith. It was dark in this horrible little room. He had no idea where he was or what was going to happen to him next. All he knew was the dark and the pain.

"Had enough yet? Huh, Dr. Shepherd? Or do you want _more_?" The man slammed his hand into Derek's battered face. He felt the blood trickle down his cheek and he moaned out loud.

His tormentor laughed.

"Enough yet, Shep? Are you going to tell me what I want to hear? Or do we have to keep this going longer?"

Derek wasn't really there anymore. He had left behind the pain several times over what he thought were days. He wasn't listening to his captor.

He was surrounded by the blonde hair and smell of lavender. Letting his mind wander away was the only way he felt he wouldn't lose his mind.

He hoped that once he was out of here she would forgive him for disappearing.

_Has nobody asked you how you are?  
You look like you might not last the day._

* * *

**Bet you didn't see that coming, didya? So, know you know that Derek had not ditched Meredith to deal with the horrible car accident. He is not a McBastard. He is a McCaptive.**

**Sorry about all the dark and twisty. This was kind of a filler chapter, but it needed to be said. So yeah. EVERYONE is affected by Izzie's death, even Burke. Maybe not Derek, as he is being tortured, but yeah. Almost everyone. I do have a reason for putting him with the psycho. Just trust me.**

**I might not be able to update till next weekend, but I'll try my best. REVIEW!!**


	4. Get Busy Living Or Get Busy Dying

**Disclaimer- I don't own Grey's, 'cause if I did this would be the show and not a fic.**

**Okay, so here's chapter three for you. I wrote it early because I got my friends to start reading this, and one of them (ELAINE!!) has been harassing me for an update. Yesterday I told her that I'd written this chapter and she got all excited, and she didn't talk to me for the rest of lunch when I told her that I was lying. Hehehe...**

**Thank you guys for the awesome reviews! It makes writing this worth the effort and the stress when I'm trying to figure out how to break down a wall that I've written myself into. And it's good for you guys, too. I promise to respond to every single review that I get if I am allowed to. And I can say with certainty that if you ask the right questions, I will give you hints. I've done it a couple of times, and so if you want clues, _you should review_... hint, hint.**

**And so, about the actual story. I know exactly who creeper-man is, I know _why_, I know _how_, and I am promising you that you will know too. Soon. **

**Sick of me? Go ahead. I know you're getting sick of me rambling about nothing in particular.**

_Now talking's just a waste of breath  
And living's just a waste of death,  
And why put a new address  
On the same old loneliness?_

How long had it been since he'd seen the sunlight? He had been locked in this tiny room, shackled to this hard chair, for far too long. He thought that it might have been a couple of days, or weeks. It felt like years. When his tormentor was not in the tiny prison with him, making him lose track of time and space, he was alone, and the tedium that came when the pain ebbed was unbearable. Derek was afraid that he would lose his mind if he was here for very much longer. The only thing that was keeping his sanity from drifting away from him was the thought of Meredith.

Meredith. She was keeping him afloat. Keeping him from drowning again, just like she had a year ago when he'd seen her at the counter ordering straight tequila. Just the image of her smile in his mind was enough to numb the desperation he felt when alone in the little room.

And even when he felt like an animal waiting for the hunter to come and take it from the trap, he knew it was better than when the hunter came back. The hunter was a sadistic bastard who wanted Derek to suffer.

Derek couldn't turn back time. He couldn't take back what he had done.

And now he was chained to a chair waiting in a pitch black room for the man who wanted him to bleed.

His head shot up as a key rattled in the lock.

GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA

Meredith had slipped off the plateau of consciousness into uneasy sleep. She kept seeing the crash over and over in the same blurry quality that her dream had been in before. Now, though, she saw Izzie looking at her with wide eyes and screaming. She saw blood blossom all over her body until she was soaked in crimson. And Meredith just stood there watching her friend bleed out.

That was usually when the screaming started. Christina would grab her shoulders and hold her still, yelling at her.

"It's okay! It's just a dream! Meredith, wake up!"

She would come to, realize that Izzie was not standing before her dying. And then she would remember that she had already died. Tears came next.

It was incredible how she still had tears to shed after she had spilled so many. Surely she would exhaust her seemingly limitless supply eventually? There had to be some kind of release. Some relief.

She had woken again and her sobs had started to abate. Christina had let go of her shoulders and sunk back in her chair, avoiding Meredith's gaze. Seeing her best friend in the state that she was in was killing her. She was looking over to the door, feigning interest in who was passing the relentlessly white hospital room. She watched nurses pass through the hall, saw tired interns drooping under the weight of exhaustion. And then she saw George in the doorway.

It was his face that took her aback. George had an innocent look about him, something naive and child-like, even though he was an adult and had his own bouts of darkness. But now... now it was like that sweetness had been sucked away from his face. Nothing had replaced it, save for maybe the despairing glint in his eyes. He looked so empty, so emotionless, that Christina was afraid that he might just crumple up in front of them. She watched, irrationally terrified that if she moved or spoke, he would break into pieces before her eyes.

"George." Meredith's voice was quiet and frail, barely a whisper, but it he flinched as though she'd shouted it.

It seemed like it took him forever to lift his eyes to hers. His face remained horribly blank as he stared at her, but suddenly it contorted with grief. He let out a low sob and nearly fell onto Meredith's bed.

It was a long time until he could get out the words that he felt he needed to say. To make them real and true.

"I'm so glad you're all right."

That was it.

GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA

Light streamed into the room, blinding Derek. He squeezed his watering eyes shut, as much to stop the light from burning them as to not see the man entering. He knew what he would look like. He had his face memorized.

He would be wearing that smile, the twisted smirk that made Derek's stomach clench. He would be staring at Derek's pathetic form trapped on the chair with his manic eyes, studying him, relishing the fear that radiated from his prisoner.

"Are we ready, Dr. Shepherd?" he asked, velvet in his voice, as though he were here to take Derek into surgery. But there was undercurrent to his words, a tone that sent shivers down Derek's spine.

He started to shake and the man laughed.

"Now, now, it won't be so bad, will it?" He laughed again as he flipped on the lights and closed the door.

_What more do you want from me?_ Derek felt like screaming at him. _Why not just kill me and be done with it? You've had your revenge._ He kept his words to himself. He knew that if he said them out loud, the man might act on his suggestion, and Derek didn't want to die.

He just wanted to get away.

Why hadn't he been more careful? If he hadn't been so stupid, so petty, he wouldn't be here. He would have gone home and made up with Meredith. He wouldn't be trapped in this room with his vindictive captor approaching him with that sick, eager smile on his face.

GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA

Almost an hour after George had stumbled into the little white room where Meredith lay, Alex walked through the front doors of the hospital. He was oblivious of the other people in the building, single-minded in his search for his tiny little friend.

He had been so deep in his grief for Izzie that he had refused to remember the other friend who had been in that car. The one who was still alive. It had been then that he'd finally raised himself off of the bathroom floor. Then he'd run for his car.

He barrelled into the lobby, stopping only to ask the receptionist where he could find a patient named 'Grey'. He'd sprinted to the elevator, but gotten off on the next floor and ran for the stairs because standing there waiting had made him feel like he wasn't going fast enough.

Alex was, in truth, desperate to see her. To have physical, tangible proof that she was actually there. Actually living, no matter how battered she was. He needed to know that although one of the only people who he cared for was gone, he was not alone.

He needed to see her to know that she was alive.

He reached the third floor and, ignoring the shouts of those he pushed out of his way, he made his way down the last bit of hallway before her room. He threw the door open, flinching as it slammed against the wall. He was met by three pairs of shocked and bloodshot eyes.

"Alex! What the hell?" Christina exclaimed, taking in his tousled hair and watching him gasp for air. He looked very close to deranged, and she hoped that he didn't snap and try to hurt them.

But Alex ignored her. His attention was focussed solely on the tiny person in the hospital bed. "M-Mer," he managed to get out. He held up a finger as he tried to catch his breath. "I just- I needed to..." He trailed off, trying to convey his meaning through his eyes. He had no idea what to do now.

So he just grabbed a chair and sat down with the only people he had left.

GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA

Derek lost consciousness almost an hour after the beating had begun. At least, he thought it had been an hour. It was a relief, really, to not have to deal with the constant pain.

But even within this blackness, he was not completely untroubled. The pain pervaded into his peace, and it brought with it unsettling dreams. Dreams of his tormentor getting to the only thing that he cared about now at all. He could hear her screams, hear her blood pour from the wounds like his own blood had stained his once-fine clothes. The screams brought him back to the surface, forcing him back into his body. The room was dark again, as dark as his dreams had been, but he knew that he was awake because the pain was suddenly so much more there. So much more unbearable. He cried out, his voice echoing in the dark.

He wondered if when he finally died, he would feel this pain.

Was there pain in the afterlife?

Over the past days, weeks, however long he had been here, he had given a lot of thought to death. Not at first, when he had still thought that he would be able to keep himself from breaking, when he had believed that he would be able to escape. But later, when he had resigned himself to the pain and the darkness. Of course, before this ordeal, this hellwhatever you felt like calling it, he had thought about death; he was a surgeon, he watched people die every day. He had decided on some loosely defined afterlife. Not really heaven or hell, but _something. _But he had never thought about it with the intensity that he did now.

Now it was his eternity in question.

He hoped with every fibre of his broken self that if there was a heaven and hell and a points system of good deeds versus bad deeds, he wouldn't be judged too harshly.

GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA

"Remember how on our very first day, Izzie said that maybe Bailey was called the Nazi because of 'professional jealousy'?"

Everyone laughed, lost in the memories of how nervous they had been that day. Alex hadn't even been there, but it was something that he could imagine Izzie saying.

"And how when you papered the locker room with pictures of her in lingerie and she stripped in front of everyone?" George asked Alex.

On any other occasion, Alex would have felt ashamed of his behaviour, but for some reason, he felt nothing but fondness for that memory. He smiled in response and jumped in with his own recollection.

"What about the time when we were all in the gallery and she asked you to pick up tampons on your way home?"

Meredith giggled loudly and added, "You didn't even get them. We really needed tampons, George." She looked over to the end of her bed where he sat to see the effect that her teasing had on him. The same quiet smile that the rest of them had was playing over his lips. But then his lips twisted downwards.

"She used to cry at funerals."

His eyes welled up with tears and Meredith impulsively reached out for his hand. He looked down at her bruised face and his lips twitched up at the corners. "Second time you've been in a hospital bed in three months, huh, Mer?"

She smiled at him and squeezed his hand.

"Remember when she helped Christina look through crap for Monopoly pieces to get out of talking to Sydney?"

GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA

He was starting to anticipate the man's return, waiting for his inevitable return.

If only he hadn't been so blind. So stupid and absorbed with his own problems. He wouldn't be here, waiting helplessly for the psychotic sadist who was so completely devoted to torturing him until he lost his mind.

If only he'd paid more attention, he would have known that the man's overtures were false.

_He had been sitting in the corner of the bar for the past hour, downing drink after drink, trying to quiet the anger that pounded through his veins._

_They'd been through so much, but wasn't that over now? They had gotten past it. The wife, the ferry, they had gotten past those things. They were happy, weren't they?_

_What had driven her to do something like this?_

_Derek was so consumed by his thoughts of Meredith that he didn't immediately notice the man who had just taken the seat next to him. When he did, it took his scotch-dulled mind a moment to realize who he was._

"_Mr. Young! What are you doing here?"_

_It had been over two months since he had seen Mason Young. Derek had operated on a tumour in his wife's brain. It had been in extremely dangerous territory, but Derek had done similar procedures before, and had been confident that he could pull it off. But it had been only three weeks since Meredith's drowning, and that morning she had been picked to scrub in on a very complicated heart surgery with Preston, and he had been worrying about her when he operated. He had made a mistake, and she had bled out._

_Mason Young had threatened to sue the hospital, but dropped charges once he had talked with the Chief. But before leaving the hospital for the last time, he had sought out Derek._

"_I'm going to hurt you for killing my wife."_

_Now he was sitting across from Derek looking completely friendly._

"_I um, I wanted to apologize." He looked down at his hands and cleared his throat nervously. "I know that what happened to Barbara wasn't your fault. I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry for blaming you."_

_Derek was taken aback, but he regained his composure quickly. He offered to buy Young a drink, but the other man had insisted on buying them both. He had even gone to the counter to get them himself._

_Derek decided to go home soon after that. The good-humour that came from being forgiven by this man who had hated him so much made him want to go home and talk to Meredith. He needed her to see that he wasn't angry, that he respected her decision._

_He rose from the table and swayed slightly. He assumed that he had drank too much. He had walked out the door chatting amicably with Mr. Young. It wasn't until they were about twenty feet away from the bar that he had collapsed. He hadn't seen Young spike the drink._

Why hadn't he seen that Young was still vengeful? If only he'd been more careful.

The key rattled in the lock again.

_I used to obsess over living-  
Now I only obsess over you._

**So. Now you know who he is. Happy? I SO wasn't even gonna tell you yet either, but you just BEGGED, so now you know. I was kind of nervous about telling you cause I'm afraid you'll think it's anti-climatic. Is it? Or is it acceptable?**

**What you do not know is what Meredith did. It is something that made Derek mad enough to go get drunk, and he doesn't usually do that when he gets mad. That's what Meredith does. It was big enough for Meredith to think that that's why Derek 'took off'. What do you think it is? Well? Review, and I may hint. You never know. Ask the right questions and you'll get the right answers.**


	5. Friend or Foe

**Disclaimer- Grey's does not belong to me. If it did, I would be rich and be writing on my OWN computer, instead of jobless and writing on the computer in my parent's bedroom.**

**Hey, people. Sorry this has taken so long. This was a really hard chapter to write, because I had NO IDEA how I was going to do some things that I needed to do. Also, this week has been really horrible. Like, depression-filled, feel like not getting up in the morning at all days. But I'm better now, and the chapter is finally DONE, so...**

**I have nothing more to say. So go ahead.

* * *

**

_Is it too late?  
Nothing to salvage.  
You look away,  
Clear all the damage._

Mason Young was a peaceful man. He led protests when the NRA gathered. He petitioned for gun control. He voted against capital punishment. "People deserve a second chance," he'd say to his wife over the paper on mornings before they went to work.

But none of that mattered anymore.

"Why are you doing this?"

It was not the first time that he'd been asked this question. It seemed to be Shepherd's favourite thing to say.

Why? He thought it was obvious. Shepherd had murdered his wife. This was just punishment. Just. This was what he _deserved_

Young hadn't even felt rage towards Shepherd until he'd heard those nurses talking. He'd been angry, yes, but it had been fuelled by grief. He had not felt rage. He'd been cleaning out his wife's empty hospital room, having declined the hospital's offer to _pack up her personal possessions for him_, when he heard those damned nurses talking about him. You'd think that they'd have the decency to lower their voices a little more, point their fingers a little bit less. He was a grieving man who'd just lost the love of his life. They didn't even try to mask their obvious gossiping.

And so it had been hard not to hear their reasoning behind his wife's death.

He had believed the doctors. The tumour was in dangerous territory. She'd been aware of the risks. It had never even occurred to Mason that it could be the doctors' faults.

But then he'd heard the nurses' theory.

"_Ever since Meredith Grey went into the water he's been distracted. That's why he's not getting Chief."_

"_That's why he screwed up the procedure. He's done it so many times, but this time..." The nurse trailed off, but another woman finished her sentence for her._

"_This time his hands were shaking. He looked like Dr. Burke did when he had that hand tremor."_

"_It's kind of pathetic, actually. Shepherd's so completely hung up on his girlfriend that he's killing patients."_

It had been then that the roar in his ears had blocked out their voices.

He had wanted to kill Shepherd. But Barbara had always said that it was incredible how humane he was, how caring. How he never solved a problem with violence. And so he had tried to sue the hospital. That was peaceful, wasn't it? Much less vindictive than hunting Shepherd down as he was leaving work and running him down in his truck.

But then the Chief of Surgery had talked to him. Young had liked Webber. He didn't want his last weeks as Chief of the hospital that had failed his Barbara. He had dropped the lawsuit, but on his way out of that godforsaken place, he had seen the man who had let his own worries kill his wife.

He had walked up to him, carrying the box of things that he'd cleaned out of his dead wife's room, and hissed his farewell.

_I'm going to hurt you for killing my wife._

"Why?", Shepherd asked again, his broken voice brimming with pain.

Why?

"To make you feel the pain that I feel."

GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA

Chief Webber looked into the little room and smiled. Four interns were sprawled across the room, making it look comically small. Karev was half-sitting, half sliding out of his chair next to the bed. Yang was folded up in another identical chair, her head resting on her arms, which were bent at uncomfortable-looking angles. O'Malley was draped across the foot of the small bed, which held an even smaller person, looking so fragile wrapped in bandages and plaster that the smirk slipped off the Chief's face. Her bruises reminded him of the intern that was missing.

He cleared his throat.

George stirred, his eyes opening ever so slightly. He blinked blearily up at the door, and took a moment to register that there was someone standing there. He started, and said overloudly, "Chief!"

His exclamation woke the others, who were used to sleeping lightly. After several seconds of watching the interns scrambling around trying to look professional, the Chief spoke.

"I came to say..." He trailed off. Meredith looked up into his eyes and the pain that he saw there made his heart twist in his chest. It wasn't fair. It had only been three months since Ellis had died. Meredith had gone through enough. This wasn't fair.

"I'm so sorry about Dr. Stevens."

He tried not to notice the way that Karev had turned his gaze away from him, or the sudden increase in Yang's blinking. How O'Malley's face seemed more lined that the last time he'd seen him.

How Meredith seemed to crumple.

"I have something to ask you, though, Meredith." She straightened slightly, her expression puzzled.

"It's about Dr. Shepherd."

Her posture suddenly shifted, shattering far beyond what he'd seen when he'd reminded her of Stevens.

"What about Dr. Shepherd, sir?" O'Malley's eyes seemed to flash, and the Chief saw him glance towards Meredith. He watched as O'Malley reached over and took Meredith's hand. He looked back at the Chief. "Where is he?"

"That's actually my question, Dr. O'Malley. Meredith," he turned his gaze to her's, "have you seen him? Recently?"

This shook Meredith. "You mean he hasn't talked to you? He didn't ask for... for time off?"

"No. I haven't seen him for eight days. Do you have any idea where he might be?" He was worried. Not even Meredith had seen him? What did that mean? Derek was not the kind of man to just take off.

"No, sir, I don't. But, I, I mean we..." Her voice faltered, and Christina reached over to hold onto her arm. Webber had never seen Yang touch another person other than Preston, and seeing that _Christina Yang_ thought Meredith needed to be propped up because of Shepherd made the blood pound in his ears. Shepherd had done this to Meredith, who was like a daughter to him. But Meredith was speaking again, distracting him from his contemplation of what he was going to do to Shepherd when he finally resurfaced.

"Last week, we had a, um, fight. Eight days ago. He left the house and I haven't seen him since. I thought that he'd called you, though, taken time off. Derek doesn't just take off..." She was deep in her own fears now, and Webber knew he wouldn't get anything useful from her.

"I'm going to call the police and have them issue a missing persons report, then. No one's seen him in over a week, and...," he saw Meredith grow pale. "Don't worry, Meredith. He'll be fine. We just have to find him so I can yell at him for leaving you here alone." He smiled at her and was relieved when she smiled back ever so slightly.

It wasn't until he was a few feet down the hall that he heard her sob.

GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA

"Mer, Mer, it's okay, he's fine. Don't worry, calm down, Mer, please," George pleaded.

"But you heard th-the Chief. N-no, no one's even _seen_ him for _eight days_, George." Her voice was almost keening, filled to the brim with panic.

"Meredith. Meredith, look at me," Christina ordered. "He is fine. He is off overreacting, and _he will be back_. He's fine."

Meredith nodded and slowed her breathing. But as her sobs subsided, she reflected on the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. She knew Derek. He would not just leave his work, his life, for eight days. He wouldn't leave her here for eight days all alone. Especially since the ferry. Eventually, after about six weeks of not being able to sleep because he was afraid that she'd stop breathing if he wasn't watching her, he'd started going to therapy. He was fine now, but there were still moments when he would wake up at night begging her to breathe.

He wouldn't leave her alone for eight days.

What she had done hadn't made him stop loving her, had it?

"Meredith." Christina was studying her face. "He has not left you. If he had, he would have said so. He wouldn't just leave you here. Don't even think that."

"Yeah, Mer. Even Shepherd's not capable of doing something like that. He's going to come back." Alex was trying to look casual, as though he believed his words. But he exchanged a glance with George that nullified his reassuring tone.

Meredith wanted so much to believe them, but even if she hadn't seen that look, the feeling in the pit of her stomach was making her nauseous.

GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA

Young's fist bit into Derek's stomach, making him retch. Not that there was anything for him to puke up; he hadn't been fed for at least two days. He was only given enough water to stay alive.

Another blow knocked the wind out of him. Young paced back from him, muttering unintelligible things to himself. Derek, gasping for air, watched the man with streaming eyes. He wanted so much to see Meredith again. To tell her that it didn't matter, that her choice was her own and that he agreed with her. They weren't ready. They couldn't start a family right now; he didn't need a baby.

Why hadn't he seen it before? Now he was going to die and Meredith would never know that all he needed was her.

He was startled by a shrill noise. It pierced the air in the little room that smelled of blood. Derek didn't realize what it was until Young, swearing, pulled his cell phone from his pocket. Derek laughed a little too wildly. _I couldn't recognize a cell phone. _It was funny in a sick sort of way.

"Now? Shit," he muttered. "Nothing. Yeah, I'll be there." He snapped the phone shut and slammed it on the table next to Derek. "You're lucky, _Doctor_." The scorn in his tone was almost palpable. "I'll be back later to finish our meeting."

With that, he stormed out of the room.

It didn't occur to Derek for a few minutes that Young had left his cell phone behind, laying only three feet away on the table next to the chair that Derek was chained to.

GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA

"We have to do something about Meredith. She's going to freak out if McDreamy's not back soon." Christina declared as she sat down with her tray.

George, Alex, and Christina had gotten away from Meredith, saying that they were going downstairs to the cafeteria. None of them had eaten since they'd heard about Izzie, but now, as they sat at the table picking through their food, they realized that none of them were hungry.

"Where the hell is he? When he gets back, I'm going to kick his ass." Alex had no idea that he was thinking the same thing as the Chief.

"Has Burke gotten through to him?"

"No," Christina answered, digging through her salad with a slightly disgusted look on her face. "So either he's ignoring his phone completely, lost his mind, or lying in the gutter somewhere."

"Don't say that," George said sharply. Christina looked up at him with repentant eyes. "But you're right."

"I'm always right," Christina stated, but with a tremor in her voice.

"What are you gonna do to keep Mer from losing it? It's not gonna be long until she finds a nurse stupid enough to get her a wheelchair."

"I have no idea. All we can do is sit in her room and make sure she doesn't take off looking for Shepherd." Christina sighed. "Has this food always tasted like crap?"

"I think so. Let's go back and guard Mer." Alex stood up, taking his tray with him.

"I'll be right up. I want to call Callie. I kinda took off in the middle of the night, and..."

"Go ahead. Just hurry. We might need you to help us restrain her."

GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA

Derek looked at the phone, so unreachable that it might as well be in Young's hands. His hands, chained as they were to the arms of his horrible metal chair, were useless to him. But maybe...

He pushed against the floor, and the chair scraped along the cement. He grinned fiercely, the smile suddenly becoming a grimace. The pain in his stomach stabbed at him, causing him to swear out loud. _That bastard must have broken some ribs._

He gritted his teeth and pushed again, this time getting almost face-to-face with the treasure he sought. Once more...

He pushed and his rib punctured the skin.

Derek screamed, fighting the blackness that accompanied the pain, so much worse than anything he'd ever felt before. _Don't pass out, oh, God, don't pass out._ If he lost consciousness, who knew how long it would be until he found it again? And if Young came back before he could get to that phone, he wouldn't get the chance to get out of here again. He'd never see Meredith again.

And her face came blazing into his mind.

He saw her strawberry-blonde hair, catching the light. He saw her green eyes, shining with laughter. Her giggles echoed through his mind, and he had the strength to shove the blackness away.

He had reached the phone. He bent his head and closed his jaws over it, screaming with joy inside. The place where his rib was poking through the skin was bleeding, but not heavily, although the pain was such that if Meredith wasn't firmly lodged behind his eyelids, he would be out cold, helplessly waiting for his torturer to return.

He dropped the phone in his lap next to his hand. Inching it over with his thigh, he felt the plastic nudge his finger. He dialled the three numbers he needed, the ones that every mother makes their child memorize as soon as they are old enough to know how to use the phone.

_9-1-1._

He lowered his head, his neck, bent his back, _Oh, my God, the pain,_ grasped the phone between his teeth again. Bent his back again. _Jesus Christ!_ Pinned the phone between his shoulder and his ear.

"911, please state your emergency."

_So are you friend or foe?  
'Cause I used to know.

* * *

_

**So, there you are. For the obvious: Derek is in the process of trying to escape. He is in the process. Will it work? Will Young get back and wreak havoc on Derek's plan? Or will Derek get out unscathed? Well, no more scathed than he is now. OH! About the puncturing rib. I don't care if it's physically impossible to stay conscious with a rib sticking through your skin. It's my story, and besides, the power of love compelled him. So there!**

**Meredith, meanwhile, is just now starting to realize that something could be happening to Derek while she's dealing with the death of Izzie and her own incapacitation. Yeah, she's a little self-centred, but that's Meredith, right? Besides, as I told a reviewer, Derek is McDreamy. He laid McSteamy out with a single punch. He is a man among men. He lives in the woods. It is usually not the first thing to go through someone's mind when faced with a manly man that they could be victims. Male rape victims are thought to be comical, told that they were lucky to be raped by a woman. Sorry to totally go off topic, but it's the best example I can think of. When you didn't know where Derek was, did you even consider that he could be being victimized?**

**Review. Share the love.**


	6. Help!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Grey's Anatomy. If I did, Derek would have told Mer about his issues way before he had and way differently. He would not be coming off as an ass. No. He would still be McDreamy.**

**OH! Tis the weekend, and you know what that means. That I have dragged myself off my lazy bum and written you wonderful people a chapter. This chapter contains a few characters that I have developed myself, and I am proud of them. It's also the first chapter that I've written that doesn't switch between viewpoints. It's all in one of my fictional character's eyes.**

**I have nothing else to say other than this: Thank god for fanfiction. If it didn't exist, I'd actually have to do something productive!**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

_When I was younger, so much younger than today,  
I never needed anybody's help in any way.  
But now these days are gone, I'm not so self assured,  
Now I find I've changed my mind and opened up the doors._

Angela was tired. Lose-consciousness-at-work tired. Her boss had noticed, when he saw her take her place at her phone and put her head down on the table for almost three whole minutes. She'd noticed him watching her all night, making sure that she didn't accidentally hang up on the desperate people on the other side of the line.

Angela hated her job, the panicky people calling, their words slurring together in fear, usually about something that they could fix themselves. There were the rare occasions that someone would call in something serious, something like a gunshot wound or a car crash that she'd hear about later on the news. But these people with their stories, all she did for them was take down the information so the real heroes could take off towards the terrified caller in their howling ambulances.

She did nothing for them and she hated it.

And so, that fateful day, she dragged her exhausted body towards her desk, forced herself to turn on her headset, and answered the call in a monotone, performing the routine that she could do in her sleep.

"911, please state your emergency."

"_Thank God. I'm, I..."_

Angela tried again, prompting the man who seemed to have started sobbing. "Sir, please, state your emergency."

"_I'm... I'm being held against my will by a man named Mason Young. I don't know where, but... I need you to hurry. I don't know when he'll be back."_

Angela bit back a laugh. She had half a mind to tell whoever was on the other end to screw off- he was obviously prank calling, and she was too tired to put up with some immature asshole wasting her time. But then she heard him snuffling.

The fear in his voice hadn't registered right away. Now she heard it and it made her stomach flip.

"Uh, alright, sir, could I have your name?"

"_Derek Shepherd. I'm a neurosurgeon at Seattle Grace Hospital."_ The answer was almost hopeful. _"Has anyone reported me missing? I think I've been gone for a week. I'm... not sure..."_

Pulling out her keyboard, she typed his name out in the search bar, checking for reports from Missing Persons. As she waited for the list to generate, she asked questions, wanting to keep him calm. "What day was it when you were abducted?"

"_May... 17, I think."_

"That was eight days, ago, Derek."

"_Oh, God..."_ The pain in his voice alarmed her, and she clutched the phone tighter.

"What's wrong?"

"_My rib, my second rib is broken, and it's punctured the skin. It's not bleeding as badly as before, but it hurts like hell."_

_Crap_, Angela thought. She looked up at the computer screen and scrolled down. "Do you think that it's punctured anything else?" She was strangely anxious as she waited for his answer.

"_No. I don't think so."_

She let out a breath that she didn't know she'd been holding. And then she found his name. Right date, neurosurgeon. "Derek, you are in the system. That's good," she added. "The name of your abductor, again, please?"

"_Mason Young." _The amount of venom in those two words was shocking.

"And you said that you don't know where you are. Do you have any idea?"

She heard an exasperated sigh through the line. _"If I had any idea, I'd tell you."_

"I know. Sorry." She didn't know why she was apologizing; she was asking standard questions. She lifted her gaze from the computer screen and waved her watchful boss over to her side. "How do you know Mr. Young? Do you know why he's keeping you?"

"_Yes, I know why." _The voice paused, drew in a breath. _"I operated on his wife. I was... distracted, and I made a mistake. I wasn't concentrating, and... she bled out. I couldn't stop it..."_ Angela's boss was next to her, now, but she was ignoring him. All her attention was on the tortured voice speaking in her ear. She did manage to gather enough presence of mind to hook up another headset so the man standing behind her shoulder could hear the story. But then Derek began speaking again and Angela was once again enraptured. _"He threatened me when the lawsuit he wanted to press on the hospital feel through. But that was months ago." _His voice took on an almost pleading tone. _"Why did he wait months? Why now?"_

As his voice faded, Angela turned her attention to her boss, who was waiting expectantly for an explanation.

"Alright, Derek. Just hold on for a minute." She covered the speaker so he wouldn't be able to hear her. "I got a call from a Dr. Derek Shepherd. He's been abducted and held captive for eight days. Missing Persons filed a report early this morning. He's been gone eight days. _What?_"

He was laughing at her. She suddenly pictured her fist smashing into the side of his face and imagined the satisfaction that she'd feel.

"You _believe_ him? Angela, you've been working here for seven months; you've answered your fair share of prank calls." He turned to leave, but her hand shot out to grab his elbow.

"I've had my share of prank calls. I know what they sound like. Phil." She locked eyes with him and tightened her grip on his arm. "_Please. _Do it for me. This is real. Help him."

Phil sighed and dragged his free hand over his eyes. "How is he calling you, if he's been locked up by a psycho?"

"Oh." She hadn't even considered that aspect of Derek's story. "Derek," she said, uncovering the microphone.

"_Yes?"_

"How did you make this call?"

"_Young got a call and had to leave. He left his cell on the table beside me."_

"Within reach of you?"Phil asked incredulously, speaking into his headset.

"_Who are you?" _Derek's voice betrayed fear.

"He's my boss, Derek. Please, just answer the question."

There was a pause, and Angela's heart stopped beating.

"_I'm chained to this chair." _(Angela's heart restarted)_ "He didn't think that I could get to it."_ There was triumph in Derek's voice as he said it, and Angela felt an odd twinge of pride for him as well.

She looked up at Phil, waiting.

"Alright. I'll get the people from Special Cases. Maybe they can triangulate the phone signal. We'll get you out, Derek."

"Thank you," Angela whispered fervently. Phil nodded, and turned away to get the help he'd promised. She smiled softly, and then returned to her mission.

"Derek, I need you to keep the phone on, okay? Just talk to me."

"_What should I talk about?"_

"Anything. Do you... do you have a girlfriend? Wife?"

She was shocked to hear him laugh, but the chuckle almost immediately became a moan of pain. "What is it? Derek?"

"_Rib. God, that hurts." _He paused for a minute and then said, _"I'm okay."_

"What was funny?"

"_It's not really funny, just, if you'd asked me that a year ago, I would have had to tell you both."_

"What do you mean?" She had a pretty good idea of what he meant, but she didn't want to think of him as an adulterous man-whore. So she waited for his explanation.

"_Last year, I was married. We lived in New York, we were successful, but we weren't... I didn't pay attention to her. She felt neglected, which she was. But then she cheated on me, and I left and came out here. And I met Meredith."_ Angela heard the way he said her name and smiled. _"Meredith's... she's everything. At first, when we were just starting to go out, I didn't realize what she was to me; it had been so long since I'd felt anything at all like that. Even with Addison- my wife- it was never like that..." _His voice faded, and when he resumed his story, there was something bitter in his voice, some pain or remorse that had not yet healed. _"Addison came to Seattle three months after I started seeing Meredith. She gave me divorce papers. But she wanted me back. I could have been with Meredith, or I could try to fix my marriage."_ He sighed, and Angela knew what he had done.

"You picked her."

"_I picked her."_

"Why?"

"_I thought that I owed it to her. I... I said till death do us part. But I was in love with Meredith. I was with Addison for months, but I never stopped loving Meredith. And then, one night at prom-"_

"Prom?"

"_We threw a prom for the Chief of Surgery's niece- she had cervical cancer. Anyway, if you're finished interrupting, I'll get back to the story." _He paused for a moment, and when he continued, she could hear the smile in his voice. _"You decided to stop me at the best part, you know."_

She laughed.

"_At prom, we had sex in an exam room. It wasn't the smartest thing to do; my wife and her boyfriend were waiting for us. But..."_

"You had to?" Angela had experienced her own fair share of passion.

"_We had to. I got divorced and Meredith chose me over Finn. Her boyfriend. I always thought that he was creepy, but maybe I'm biassed." _There was a long pause, and then he said, _"It's your turn."_

"What do you want to know?"

"_I don't even know your name."_

Seriously? It hadn't even occurred to her that she hadn't told him her name. It was against the rules, but then again... screw it. "My name's Angela."

"_It's nice to meet you, Angela. Now, what's your life story?"_

"Actually, it's almost as dramatic as yours; I don't know if you can handle it," she teased. Angela heard someone approach her from behind and looked up. Phil was back, with three others. They crowded into her little cubicle and immediately began plugging in equipment. She sent a warm smile to Phil.

"_Are you serious? Have you ever been to Seattle Grace Hospital? The place is powered by drama. It's like electricity."_

She laughed, but as she began her story, the light in her eyes faded. "I grew up in San Diego. When I was sixteen, my parents got in a car accident, and my mom died. My dad was driving, and he never got over the guilt." She was well aware of the four pairs of eyes that were trained upon the back of her head, but she ignored them. _This is for Derek. I'm talking to keep him calm, keep his mind off the psycho who could come back at any moment..._ Her stomach suddenly clenched and she continued her narrative. If her voice shook, well, she hadn't told this story in a very long time.

"He started drinking. Way too much, and before long he'd lost his job and the only thing that I ever saw him do after that was sit in front of the TV with a bottle of scotch in his hand." She heard Derek stir on the other line and paused, in case he wanted to interject something. But he said nothing. "The day that I graduated from high school, I left and never came back. He didn't need me there; he had money and we'd barely spoken since mom died, so... anyway, after I dropped out of university, I came here. I had no idea of what I wanted to do with my life, but I wanted to help people. So I applied for a job here. It wasn't long till I realized that this wasn't really what I wanted. I felt useless, like I wasn't really helping anyone. I swear, if you'd heard some of the things that people call in..."

"_Like what?"_

"Well, there was this woman who called in a couple of weeks ago asking me to help her with her singed hair. Apparently cooking spaghetti is fraught with peril."

Derek laughed quietly and then groaned again.

"Sorry. I keep forgetting. How bad is it?"

"_No worse. But we're talking about you, remember?"_

"I don't know what else to say."

"_Do you have a boyfriend? Husband?" _She heard the irony in his query and giggled.

"My love life's a little less complicated than yours. Not by much, but my boyfriend never met my secret husband."

Behind her, Phil grew still. She could feel his eyes on her, and she turned and grinned at him.

"Just... keep in mind, Derek, I'm not a slut."

"_I never said you were."_

"I know, but you don't know the rest of the story yet. Or have you lost interest in my love life?"

"_Never."_

Smiling, she said, "Can you keep a secret, Derek?"

"_Who do I have to tell?"_

"I slept with my boss."

She could feel Phil scowling behind her, and she heard the Special Cases people laugh quietly.

"_That's not so bad."_

"Really? Most people would say that's pretty bad."

"_Most people don't have calm conversations about the moments of their lives with strangers from 911. Besides, Meredith? She's my intern. I'm an Attending, so basically, I'm her boss. No judgement here."_

"You left that part out, Dr. Shepherd."

"_Well, I didn't want you to think that I was a slut..."_

Angela laughed loudly, and looked back at Phil, who was determinately trying to keep the frown on his face, but was failing miserably. Their eyes locked and his frown slipped, and he smiled back at her. It had been a long time since he'd seen her smile like that.

"Sir?" one of the Special Cases guys said. "We've got a location."

Joy erupted inside of Angela, bubbling into her voice. "Hear that, Derek? We've got a location!"

"_I heard it. Thanks, Angela."_

As his words faded and sunk in, she called in the order for an ambulance and police to be sent to a building not three blocks away from Derek's beloved hospital. The hospital where his beloved Meredith was probably working at right now, worrying about him. And as she did this routine task, one she did dozens of times every day, something inside of Angela snapped into place. Something that she'd thought was long since dead. And as she analysed the feeling, Derek's voice sounded in her ear, as though he was reading her mind.

"_You said that you didn't feel like you were helping anyone. I've got news for you. You just helped me more than anyone else ever will. You've saved me."_

That was it.

Fulfilment.

She was suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. Blinking profusely, she whispered, "Thanks."

There was a long moment in which nothing was said. She was aware of Phil standing behind her, and then she felt his hands on her shoulders. She looked up gratefully, and he smiled down on her.

And just in that moment, she heard a choking noise from the speaker in her ear.

"Derek?"

"_I can hear him in the hall! Oh, god..."_

"Derek, listen to me-"

"_I have to- what do I do?"_

"Derek, calm down, the police are coming-"

She heard a clatter as the phone fell to the ground, and then the sound that would haunt her dreams at night for months.

A key rattling in a lock.

_Help me get my feet back on the ground,  
Won't you please, please help me._

* * *

**So. What have I to say? First of all, PLEASE review and tell me if you A) Liked Angela, B) Disliked Angela, or C) Are indifferent towards Angela.**

**Secondly, some things that I feel I must defend. One is the 'No giving out your name rule' that Angela mentions. My mum read this before I put it up here, and she mentioned that she didn't think that it would be a rule. I disagree. There are crazy people out there who, when bad things happen, seek someone to blame. If an ambulance didn't get to someone in time, loved ones may place the blame on the person who answered their call. I have no idea if it's an actual rule, though.**

**Another is the normality that Derek exudes when talking to Angela. In case you didn't getmy sutblety, Derek only became calm after talking about Meredith. Coincidence? I think not...**

**Lastly, I wish to draw attention to something. Derek is not worrying about Meredith's safety****. Meredith is not worrying about Derek's safety. (Remember, she thinks that he's gone because he's angry with her) Neither believe that the other could be harmed. While in actuality, both of them could have died because of the way they were dealing with the anger and pain caused by each other.**

**Review. Share the love.**


	7. Save Me

**Disclaimer: I do not and never will own Grey's Anatomy. I only own Mason Young, Phil, and Angela, who people seem to like, which makes my heart happy.**

**I am SO sorry about the wait. The last couple of weeks were really hectic and I feel really bad about the horrible length between chapters.**

**I feel that I must tell you this; I got several reviews in which people were alarmed, thinking that I may decide to put Angie and Derek together. Never will this happen. I am a hardcore MerDer shipper, and anyway, Angela's got Phil to keep her warm at night.**

**So... important chapter here... yep... read on, readers!**

* * *

_Insecurities keep growing.  
Wasted energies are flowing.  
Anger, pain and sadness beckon.  
Panic sets in in a second._

Derek had never been more devastated in his life. Not when he'd walked into his bedroom in New York, knowing exactly what he'd see in his bed. Not when he'd watched Meredith walk down the stairs of a veterinarian's apartment, wearing one of the vet's shirts. Not even when he'd sat in the hall outside the trauma bay, waiting for Meredith's heart to beat again.

Nothing in his life had ever torn him apart quite like hearing his lifeline fall to the ground as he was blinded with light.

"Dr. Shepherd. Sorry to keep you waiting." Young's voice was a sneer, just as twisted with hate as his mind. His face was in shadow, his back to the door, and his silhouette was gargantuan in Derek's eyes. He watched the black mass in the doorway flick on the switch, and the monster was revealed to be a man in the yellow light.

Fear overwhelmed him. Monsters were supposed to be evil. Monsters could be counted on to perpetrate atrocities, to wreak havoc. Men were supposed to be compassionate. They were supposed to be _human_.

What could be counted on, if a mere man could become such a gruesome monster?

Young's eyes flicked away from Derek to the spot where Derek's chair had been when he left. His brow furrowed as he took in the bit of floor, marked with the stains left from Derek's spilled blood. His eyes, manic even in contemplation, found Derek again. They scrutinized him, crinkling at the corners with harsh glee when they saw the blood darkening his shirt, continuing their inspection. And then he saw it.

The phone.

Derek's heart crashed.

_No._

"_Derek? Derek! What happened?"_

Angela's words were faint, but in the silent room, it were as though she were next to them screaming.

"What did you do, Shepherd? _What the hell did you do?_" His fist bit into Derek's jaw. "Who did you call?" Stars blossomed across his vision. "_Tell me!_"

He reached down and grabbed the cell phone, listened for more frantic queries.

Angela had gone silent.

"Who's there?"

Angela had enough presence of mind to keep silent.

Young snapped the phone shut.

"Who did you call, Shepherd?"

"Why... how could you expect me to tell you?" He was having difficulty breathing.

"Because if you don't tell me, well... I guess I'll just have to kill you right here."

There was a long pause. And then-

"I- I called Meredith. I wanted... I wanted to say goodbye."

Something inside of Young snapped at Derek's words. "You wanted to say goodbye? You wanted to say goodbye?!" He grabbed a metal bar that he'd brought in a couple of days ago. Derek thought that it was what had broken his rib. He swung and it crashed into his ribcage, and Derek knew that his already broken second rib had shattered. "You don't get to say goodbye!" He swung again. "You didn't let me say goodbye to Barbara!" Again, the bar collided with his mangled chest. "Why do you get to say goodbye?"

He stopped, pulled away the bloody metal. "I should have taken your Meredith from you. Then you'd understand."

Panic rose in Derek like bile. _No. Not Meredith._

The pain in his chest was nothing compared to the thought of losing Meredith.

Young lowered his head in his hands.

And then his world stopped.

Sirens. Sirens faint in the distance. He waited with bated breath.

They were becoming louder and louder.

Until they were just outside.

"What did you do, Shepherd?"

GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA

"Meredith, calm down. You can't go anywhere!"

"No! I have to... I have to find him. It's my fault. If I'd looked earlier, if I'd talked, if I'd agreed with him, he wouldn't be...," she faltered, "He could be- Christina, I have to find him!"

"No. _You_ can't do anything for him. Meredith!" She grabbed her chin and jerked her face up. "You have to look at me. You have a broken leg, broken ribs, Mer, you can't do anything for him but wait."

Meredith started crying again. "But what if he's... Christina, I can't live without him. I need him."

"I know, Mer. I know that he could be dead." Meredith gasped out a sob. "But he could be fine. He could just be trying to figure things out. The police are looking for him no matter what he's doing. And I know that you want to go out there on your broken leg and look for him. But you can't. You have to stay here. You... you just have to wait."

She reached out for Meredith's hand in another act uncharacteristic physical contact.

"We just have to wait."

George entered the room, followed by Callie. "Hey, Mer. How are you doing?"

"How am I doing? How do you think I'm doing, George? I'm doing badly. I'm freaking out." She tried to push her way out of the bed again, but Christina restrained her. She struggled for a moment and then crumpled. "I... how am I supposed to deal with this? Izzie... and Derek... I can't take it. It's too much."

George went to her side and began murmuring sweet nothings in her ear, trying to comfort her. Callie was left standing in the doorway, taking in the scene of devastation. It was shocking for her to see the mess that Meredith was in, to see Christina Yang's eyes reddened with tears, to see Alex Karev looking so helpless. She felt like an intruder, trespassing on their grief. Even though she was married to one of their own, she didn't belong here with them. Her legs suddenly felt unstable, and she dropped into a chair to disguise her sudden weakness.

They sat there in silence for a long moment, until Meredith broke the silence.

"Callie?" She looked up and met Meredith's intense gaze. "Have you called Addison? Told her about Derek? Maybe she knows something..."

"I called her. She hasn't spoken to him for almost two months. Just after she left for LA." Callie saw Meredith's head drop ever so slightly. "But she said that she'd call if she heard anything."

She watched as the life went out of her again, and Callie's heart broke for the little woman that she barely knew. And she found herself wanting to give Meredith hope. "Meredith." She didn't move. "Grey, look at me!" Her friends started and stared at Callie, but she ignored them. Meredith hadn't reacted. Callie got up from her chair and moved to the bed. She reached out for Meredith's chin and gently raised it so that Meredith's eyes were level to her own. "That's better. Meredith, this is Derek Shepherd that we're talking about. He loves you. He would not resign himself to dying on the street and leaving you here alone. He would not." She paused, and took a steadying breath. "I know that I don't know you that well. But I think that I know you well enough to say that you can do this. Okay?"

"Okay," she answered in a tiny voice. The tears spilled again, but this time there were no accompanying sobs.

Satisfied, Callie sat back down in her chair next to Christina. She caught the fierce woman's gaze briefly, and saw approval there.

GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA

"What did you do?"

Derek didn't answer, but it didn't matter. Young knew the answer already.

"You didn't call your goddamn girlfriend, did you? _Did you_?"

The pain in his abdomen was excruciating. He was having difficultly breathing and the edge of vision was blurring. It was becoming harder and harder to cling to consciousness. And he was terrified that if he closed his eyes, Young would beat him to death.

And the pain was overwhelming him to the point where resisting his irate captor was not to be considered.

"I called for... help." Even those four words took effort to get out.

The sirens had turned off.

Quiet footsteps could be heard in the hallway.

Young jumped up and slammed the door, shrouding the two of them in darkness.

"Help?! You idiot! Didn't you realize what I'd do to you?" A light was flipped on, and the bar was in his hands again. But this time he paused, calculating eyes examining Derek's gaping form.

He threw the bar at Derek's broken ribcage. There was a sickening crack as it destroyed more bones. Derek gasped out, trying to gather in breath, tasting blood.

He couldn't breath.

He felt as though he was drowning.

He turned his blackening gaze on Young as he floundered. He saw something small and steel in his hand.

Blind terror swept over Derek.

A gun was being pointed at his head.

"Couldn't you see that this was coming, Shepherd?" There was something new in Young's eyes, beyond the madness. "Didn't you know that this was how it was going to end?"

Voices were behind the door. Someone pounded on the barrier, shouting.

"Police, open the door!"

"It was always going to end like this."

Even gasping for breath hurt. Black spots exploded in Derek's eyes. He trained his failing sight on Young, and suddenly realized that the emotion that he couldn't identify was desperation.

The gun hadn't wavered.

"_Open the door!_"

"Goodbye, Shepherd. I'll see you in hell."

"_No._"His words rasped. Young's gaze flicked to Derek's broken torso. A strange parody of a smile, dark and horrible, suddenly shot across Young's face.

He tilted the gun.

_Bang._

Searing pain ripped into Derek's chest. Blood flowed.

_I'm sorry, Meredith. I love you._

Everything went black.

The door slammed open. Men in blue uniforms, more guns. They filled the room, one in the lead, shouting, "Put the gun down, sir!"

Young lifted the gun.

Swallowed it whole.

He fell to the ground, dead before he hit the floor.

_One minute I am fine,  
The next I've lost my mind._

**

* * *

So... short chapter, but very important. Young is dead, but don't pour the champagne yet. Derek has now been shot. As in, bleeding, unconscious, and dying. Not dead yet, but still.**

**Good news- the cops are there. With medical personnel.**

**I am in a very non-rambly mood today, so...**

**Review. Share the love. PLEASE.**


	8. Fix You

**Disclaimer: If I owned Grey's, Meredith would not be stupid. She would realize that no way in hell would she break up with McDreamy, whose nickname has been restored after the "You're the Love of my Life" speech. As we are all horribly and painfully aware, this is not the case.**

**I have decided to write this chapter right away because fanfiction seems to be the only thing keeping me from taking a blade to my wrists after that travesty of a finale. I mean, come on! Who DOES that? Shonda, you had our hearts in our hands, and you blended them into milkshake and drank it. You suck. I have no faith in you, and no hope left. I swear, if she doesn't fix this, well... let's just say that I'll have to make a milkshake of my own.**

**So, enough with the epithets and on with talking about the actual story. This fic is almost over. I think maybe... two, three more chapters? Two? More likely. Yep... I am excited to start my next fic, too. Promise you'll check it out when it's up?**

**Back to this fic, though. I love this chapter. I am in love with it. It may be the best thing I've ever written. Last we heard, Derek was bleeding, Young was dead, and Meredith was having a breakdown. Let us re-enter the admittedly more violent but also more hopeful world of fiction...**

* * *

_When you try your best, but you don't succeed,  
When you get what you want, but not what you need,  
When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep,  
Stuck in reverse._

Meredith was going to shoot someone. She needed a gun. A shotgun. A rifle. Anything would do. But she was going to shoot one of her friends, and maybe then she'd feel better.

They wouldn't leave. They would take turns going to the bathroom, going to eat, going home, but they always made sure that there was at least two people guarding Meredith at all times. It was driving her insane. Derek would be found, she would heal, everything would be perfect, except for the fact that she would have to be committed to an asylum because her 'friends' had driven away her mind.

She sighed irritably and scowled at Alex, who smiled back at her.

She would settle for a plastic knife right now. She pictured gouging out his eyes.

She knew that they meant well. That they were just trying to protect her from going out and hurting herself more than she already was. Knowing that, however, gave no solace to the irrepressible urge to go out there, find a wheelchair, and proceed to find her missing boyfriend.

Meredith, about to snap and stab Alex with the little plastic spoon left on her bedside table from her jello, looked over at George instead. He was holding hands with Callie, and her head was resting against his shoulder. She swept her eyes over him, and her heart clenched. There were lines on his face that hadn't been there only days before. There was grey in his hair, despite the fact that he was still in his twenty's. And his eyes. They seemed aged, as though they belonged to someone decades older.

Looking back over at Alex, she noticed a hardness in the way he held his mouth, something that had been far less noticeable before... this.

She looked downed and blinked fiercely, willing the tears to stay behind her eyes, knowing that she'd cried enough already.

She wondered what she'd see when she next saw her reflection.

Christina entered the room and threw a handful of Meredith's clothes on the end of her bed. "There. I'll help you put these on, and then I'll take you downstairs."

"What?"

"No one wants to stay here in this ugly room, babysitting you all day. And you most definitely don't want to lay there, thinking about where your precious McDreamy is. So." She shuffled through the lump of clothes and pulled out a shirt and a pair of sweats that looked like they could accommodate Meredith's cast. "We are going to go downstairs and watch bloody people stumble into the pit."

Meredith could not argue with the logic behind Christina's idea, and tried to lever herself out of the bed. When she failed dismally, falling back onto the pillows with a loud groan, Alex and George moved forward to help her. She batted them away, and attempted to push herself out again. She moaned piteously as she flopped backwards again, and shut her eyes tight. She felt a hand on her arm, and tried to pull it off, but it pulled her up carefully, and Meredith opened her eyes. "You can't do everything by yourself, Mer. Let us help you."

She was helped into the bathroom, hobbling sadly. Shutting the door behind her, Christina ordered her to turn around. She undid the tie of her hospital gown, and Christina pulled the shirt over her head. She avoided touching the bruising, treating her as carefully as a glass doll.

The pants were much more difficult. Meredith wanted to put them on herself, but was batted away, albeit gently. After much tugging, complaining, and a few 'Stop _moving,_ damn it's', Meredith was clothed, and when they exited the little room, she felt more normal than she had before.

She was steered towards the wheelchair that Alex had retrieved for her, and soon she was on the ground floor with Christina behind her, George wheeling around her morphine drip, and Alex pointing out the interesting cases. She was almost to the point where the constant worry didn't make her feel nauseous when...

"Shepherd, Derek, 38, GSW to the chest. Multiple broken ribs, possible punctured lung, significant trauma to the rest of the torso and abrasions to the head. Unconscious, heart's in tachycardia. Significantly dehydrated, malnourished..."

The paramedic reeled off the list of things wrong with the broken man on the gurney that was wheeling past her, Meredith felt as though she was back in that car, speeding towards a pair of headlights and hearing screams.

_When the tears come streaming down your face,  
When you lose something you can't replace,  
When you love someone, but it goes to waste,  
Could it be worse?_

"Meredith? Oh my God, Mer..."

She couldn't tell whose voice it was, one of her friends, because she was still staring at the door to the trauma bay that Derek had just been steered into.

_My God. What..._

Her thoughts would not run straight. They wouldn't run at all.

She heard loud voices from behind the door.

_Derek._

"I need to see him." Her voice was flat, so full of emotion that it sounded void of any emotion at all.

"Mer?"

"I need to see him _now._"

"Mer, I don't... I don't think-"

"I don't _care _what you think! I need to see him!"

A nurse rushed out of the door, and Meredith heard a flatline.

"_No!_"

Her heart seemed to have stopped beating as well.

The door closed.

"Christina, you have you take me in there, you have to, I have to see him..." As her words descended into sobs, the door opened again. She heard the monitor beating out, in time with his slow heart, but beating.

She collapsed.

"Meredith!" George was panicking, and he let go of the IV, to which he'd previously been clinging, and whirled around to look at Meredith. She was shaking violently, and her face was deathly pale. "Mer, talk to me..."

"I..." her voice was very soft but it still shook and broke. "George, I just... I need to see him."

He looked up at Christina. She was staring, transfixed, at the trauma bay, as though she couldn't quite accept the fact that Dr. Shepherd had just appeared in front of her. He looked to Alex, whose jaw was clenched so hard that it seemed that it might break in two. He looked back down at Meredith, Meredith, Meredith broken and desperate, on the edge of losing her mind altogether.

He leaned down and picked her up.

She seemed tiny in his arms, so light, as though she were a rag doll instead of a person. Christina seemed to come to and looked at him with a challenging gleam in her eyes. He ignored her and carried Meredith to the door.

Alex was ahead of him, opening the door for George.

Meredith's head shot up, choked out a sob.

_Lights will guide you home  
And ignite your bones.  
And I will try to fix you_.

He looked much worse off upon closer inspection than a flash on a gurney had told her. A gaping hole drew her eyes to the centre of his chest, bleeding as though it would never stop. His ribcage was a battered mess. His face was bloody and bruised. He looked starved, like a bird kept in a cage by a forgetful owner.

She begged George to let her down in the whisper that was all she could muster.

She moved towards his bedside, wanting nothing more than to hold him and kiss away his hurt, make him better, hear him murmur her name. She was almost at his side, fingers outstretched when-

"What the hell is she doing in here? She can't be in here!"

"Miss, I have to ask you to leave."

She barely heard them. She grasped Derek's hand in her own.

"Miss, please, we have to work on your friend-"

_We could be friends, Meredith._

Someone laid a hand on her arm, pulling her away from him.

"No!" The hand snapped back. She didn't bother looking up. Her entire existence revolved around his beaten face. "I'm not leaving him."

She heard whoever it was ask George how they knew Derek.

_I'm someone you have to get to know to love._

"She's his girlfriend."

How did she get here?

_What's your story?_

"She's been in the hospital for a couple of days; she was in a car crash."

She shouldn't be here, could he please take her somewhere else?

_Forget what happened? You taking advantage of me last night or you kicking me out this morning? Because both are very fond memories that I'd like to hold on to._

_I have to take a shower, and when I get back you won't be here, so, goodbye... um..._

_Derek._

_Goodbye, Derek._

"I'm not leaving. George. I am not leaving him here alone."

The rest of the world became a blur after that, men and women in white coats a blur around Meredith, the only constant in her world Derek's face. His hand in hers. _If he doesn't pull through this..._

Memories cluttered her mind, buzzing like insects, infesting her every thought.

_I've been in love with you for... ever._

_Who's next, Alex? 'Cause I hear he likes to sleep around._

_Just hiding my pain._

_I'm gonna see that my wife's cheating on me with Mark, who also happened to be my best friend._

_I chose wrong._

_You didn't swim and you know how to._

_Like I was drowning and you saved me._

_She doesn't make me feel sick to my stomach thinking about my veterinarian touching her with his hands!_

_You're constantly leaving me._

_You make out with patients now?_

_I'm all for the kissing. More kissing, I say._

_She's my wife._

_It was a Thursday morning._

Every conversation that she'd ever had with him that she could remember was replaying in her head. And then the one conversation that she'd regretted for over a week.

"_Hey." He kissed the top of her head. He pulled out the chair sitting next to her and sat down in it. He studied her, taking her in with those deep blue eyes of his, dissecting her secrets. "You okay? You seem kind of..."_

"_I'm fine, I'm good." Which meant that she was anything other than fine._

_He was silent for a while longer, and then casually said, "I thought we were communicating."_

"_We are."_

"_Then what's wrong?"_

_She sighed, took a long look at him, and got up. "Nothing."_

"_Mer."_

"_No. I'm fine. You're fine. We're fine."_

"_Do you have any idea how many times you've said that word in the last five minutes?" He got up and moved behind her, where she was standing in front of the sink, cleaning dishes vigorously. He reached over and stilled her hands, holding them and wrapping them around herself as he held her. "Meredith, you have to let me in."_

"_I..." she trailed off, and when she spoke again, her voice was that of a small child, terrified of being reprimanded. "Don't hate me. Please."_

_He frowned. "Meredith-"_

"_Promise me you won't hate me."_

"_I promise."_

_She pulled away from him, took a few steps back and turned to look at him. But she lost her nerve, looking into those eyes. She had to look away._

_But she had to begin somehow._

"_Derek, you and me, we never really talked about... getting married, or, or having... kids."_

_He nodded to show that he was listening._

"_First with Addison showing up, and then the ferry... we never had that conversation."_

_He waited._

"_I... I never... my mom and me, we... and my dad, well. I've never been the kind of person who wanted a family. With kids, I mean."_

_Silence._

"_I... Derek..."_

"_It's okay. You can tell me."_

"_I... Derek, I... I'm..."_

_She stopped herself again, cut herself off._

"_I'm pregnant."_

_There was a heartbeat's pause. It was enough for him to imagine his child, Meredith's child, running, laughing. It was enough for hope._

"_I'm not keeping it."_

_Enough for hope to be crushed, a dream he hadn't realized he'd wanted to be ground to dust._

Meredith's eyes welled up, clouding her view of Derek. She swiped angrily at her tears. She'd cried enough.

"Derek," she whispered. "I'm so sorry. I... I love you. And I am so sorry."

_High up above or down below,  
When you're too in love to let it go,  
If you never try you'll never know  
Just what you're worth._

She was unaware of the inquisitive looks aimed at her as she continued to apologize to him, blinking away her tears.

She looked away from his face for the first time, finally taking in his extensive wounds. His chest was a bloody pulp, and the doctor in her knew that he'd more than likely punctured a lung. It would be filling with blood, making it impossible for him to breathe...

She felt nauseous, and she had to train her eyes on something else.

She registered the pattern of bruising all over his body, the hole in the centre of his chest which had been cleaned and bandaged. The bullet was resting in a metal dish filled with water.

It dawned on her, throbbing like a bruise, the unavoidable truth.

Someone had done this to Derek on purpose. Kept him, starved him, beat him.

Tried to kill him.

She saw red. She almost turned to leave the room and hunt down the sadistic bastard who'd done this to her Derek, but her eyes fell once again on Derek's unconscious face and her vision cleared.

"Who did this to you?" she whimpered.

Someone came into the room behind her, banging the door open.

"Meredith! What are you doing here?"

Her gaze did not falter. If she wasn't going to leave to hunt down that son of a bitch, she sure as hell wasn't going to leave for him.

"I'm not leaving him, Chief, you can't make me."

"Meredith."

"I will not leave him, Chief!"

His hand was on her arm, towing her away from him. "Get off of me!"

Richard flinched, shocked by the wildness in the command. But his grip did not falter.

Meredith started to sob. "I need to stay with him, Chief, please..."

"Meredith, we need to take him up to surgery. We need you out of the way so we can save his life. Meredith," he looked into her eyes. "You can't do anything for him right now but have faith and wait for us to fix him. Can you do that?"

She swallowed hard, and nodded.

Richard smiled at her gently and relinquished his hold on her. George held onto her arm in his stead, keeping her standing. Meredith took one last, long look at Derek, and bent down to kiss his forehead.

"Don't you dare die, you hear me? Derek? Don't you dare."

And then she allowed herself to be steered out of the room.

_Lights will guide you home  
And ignite your bones.  
And I will try to fix you_.

She hated the waiting room. She hated the red couches that they sat on. She hated the old magazines that no one waiting for something serious would ever read. She hated the old carpeting, and the off-white of the walls. She hated the other people waiting, hated the expressions on their faces, some kind of mix between desperation and hope, because she knew that she looked exactly the same.

And as much as she hated the waiting room, she would rather stay here than wait in her hospital bed, where she was an invalid and even more powerless than she felt on the ugly red couch.

She was so sick of waiting. She'd been waiting for hours, with George and Christina beside her, Alex pacing back and forth in front of her. She kept almost snapping at him for it, but every time that she opened her mouth to bitch about it, the will went out of her. So she remained silent and watched Alex pace back and forth.

And it wasn't just the waiting that was draining her. Every time that she looked away from Alex, she expected to see Izzie. Izzie, offering a hand to hold or reassurement. And judging by the tortured looks on her friend's face, they were expecting to see her, too.

Since Meredith had been told that Derek was missing, Izzie's death had become more of an ache than an actively bleeding wound. But now, now that she was painfully aware of where Derek was and what shape he was in, the pain of Izzie's violent passing had taken centre stage again, entwining itself with her helpless agonizing over Derek's surgery until she had to drop her head and cradle it in her hands.

George's hand was on her shoulder and Christina's eyes were on her face. Alex's shoes shuffled along in front of her, and all she wanted was to run away. And because of her huge cumbersome leg of plaster, she couldn't do that either.

"Meredith Grey?"

She lifted her head and met the eyes of a woman her age, another intern that she'd never worked with.

_Tears stream down your face  
When you lose something you cannot replace.  
Tears stream down your face,  
And I..._

_That's me._

She wanted to stand up, identify herself, and demand how Derek was. But as soon as the thought occurred to her, her throat closed up.

She couldn't. She could not know that Derek had died. He could be dead. He could be dead, gone, forever. And she could not deal with that.

She was an avoider. She lived her life under a banner of avoidance. If there was a choice between facing her problems and running away, she would always run away. She constantly picked the path that would lead to not facing her problems.

So that's what she would do now. It didn't matter that her friends were staring at her, wondering why the hell she hadn't responded. She would sit here and eventually, the other intern would go away.

"Meredith Grey?"

Crap.

Her plan wouldn't work if she didn't leave.

"Is there a Meredith Grey here?"

Her heart twisted inside her chest. If she didn't respond, how would she ever know if Derek was alive? She didn't want to live the rest of her life on this appallingly red couch. She wanted to live.

But if Derek had died, what was there to live for?

"Mer?" George's voice was soft, but the intern, about to turn away, heard him.

Life? Or waiting?

She'd had enough of waiting for today.

"I'm... I'm Meredith Grey."

_Tears stream down your face;  
I promise you I will learn from my mistakes.  
Tears stream down your face,  
And I..._

The girl smiled at her.

_Good sign._

It twisted into something sad as she watched Meredith struggle to raise herself from her seat.

_That's not a good sign._

Panic welled up inside of Meredith, making her hands shake and her mind go blank except for one excruciating thought.

_Derek can't be dead, can he?_

George had her right arm in a death grip. Christina hovered by her left ear. Alex had ceased pacing and had both hands on her shoulders.

"Dr. Grey, Dr. Shepherd's surgery was a success."

There was a roaring in her ears. The intern was still talking, but she couldn't hear her over the noise. Suddenly, her knees buckled and gave way. Six hands grabbed her, supported her, kept her afloat.

She reached out and grabbed the intern's hands.

"He's alive?"

She smiled. "Yes."

_Thank god. _She wasn't sure if she said it out loud or not.

"Can I...just..."

She collapsed on the beautiful red cushions.

After a moment, she asked breathlessly, "Can I... Could I see him?"

"He's probably not awake yet, but I could take you to his room."

"Could you?"

And as Meredith left the waiting room, she felt a soaring sensation in the pit of her stomach. It took her a moment to realize that it was hope.

_Lights will guide you home  
And ignite your bones.  
And I will try to fix you._

* * *

**So. This was a really long chapter, at least for me. On Word, it's eight pages long. Most of my chapters are five. I am so proud of this chapter. I mean, completely and totally proud. I'm like a proud mama. Heh.**

**Are you happy? That Derek's out of surgery? I do believe that NOW would be the time to pour that champagne.**

**This fic is almost done. I have one chapter left, and then the epilogue. And then I might wait a few weeks to start 'Two Beds And A Coffee Machine'.**

**Review. Share the love.**


	9. Cling And Clatter

**Disclaimer: I do not own Grey's Anatomy. I should also mention that I do not own any of the song lyrics that I've used. And I have used (respectively) Gunning Down Romance by Savage Garden, Broken by Norah Jones, Ask Me How I Am by Snow Patrol, Get Busy Living or Get Busy Dying (Do Your Part And Stop Going To Shows) by Fall Out Boy, Friend or Foe by t.A.T.u., Help! by The Beatles, Save Me by Jem, Fix You by Coldplay, and Cling And Clatter by Lifehouse.**

**Sorry for the ugly wait. I was doing finals and end-of-school stuff. And this chapter was really hard to write. To compensate, it is super long.**

**This is not the last chapter. I was planning for this to be the last one before the epilogue, but these characters don't seem to like my plans. Every time that I plan something, they end up crashing cars and killing themselves, or pissing off psychopaths, or getting pregnant. So after this will be the last chapter before the epilogue.**

**I have decided to write a sequel to this story, to be titled 'Razor', because of several reasons. I started this fic before season 3 ended, and so many things are not addressed that I am DYING to write about. Also, I really want to continue with Angela from chapter six. I got some really positive feedback and I think that her story has potential. And there's all that juicy Derek-has-issues-because-of-his-being-kept-in-a-dark-room-with-no-food stuff to explore.**

* * *

_And I am contemplating matters,  
All this cling and clatter  
In my head, and what you said is ringing,  
Ringing faster._

They walked down the hallway, bustling with people, with sounds. Nurses darted in and out of rooms. Doctors turned corners, anxious and harried. Patients were loud, complaining of pain and inadequacies. They'd transformed the inner hospital into a hive, full of worker bees, of drones. The buzz permeated every thought, every emotion.

Everything was moving so fast.

Meredith was being pushed down the hall by the intern, whose name, it had been revealed, was Dr. Hardy. She'd left her friends downstairs- _I just... I wanna sit with him for a while_- so she was left to passively wait as her wheelchair sped towards to the room in which Derek was lying, unconscious but stable.

"We're almost there, Meredith," she said quietly down to the top of her head. "He has several broken ribs and severe bruising to his whole upper body. We've hooked him up to an IV to help with the malnutrition but he's going to be extremely weak. And remember, he just got out of extensive surgery to repair his lung, so you'll have to be gentle with him."

"I'm a doctor, too, Dr. Hardy. I know."

She smiled. "You do. Habit. Sorry. You know, Dr. Shepherd is the very first doctor that I've ever treated. And it's almost as rare to have a visitor, or family who's a doctor, so..."

Meredith smiled slightly, but she'd just realized that there was a pit in her stomach of an enormous size. It had suddenly begun to strangle her.

_I'm not keeping it._

"What if he doesn't want to see me?" she whispered as they stopped before a door.

"Why wouldn't he?" Dr. Hardy shot her a reassuring smile and turned the knob.

It was dark in Derek's hospital room, the window shuttered against the morning light. Only a faint glow issued from the edges of the blinds, basking the room with a kind of gentle glow. The blinding white of the walls was softened into something much less harsh; some shade of grey.

Her eyes feel on Derek and she bit back a sob.

He looked broken in that bed, so haggard and empty. She had to remind herself that he was _breathing_. That he would keep breathing. That the worst was past.

Dr. Hardy pushed her wheelchair to his side and she reached out a shaking hand for his.

It was limp in her grasp, and she was suddenly in the trauma bay, standing over him, swaying, holding his hand like she was the only thing anchoring him, keeping him from drifting away-

"I'm just going to run some tests and then you'll have him all to yourself." Hardy's voice brought her back to the dim room, and she realized that _Derek was fine._ She watched for a moment as the other woman fiddled with machines, looked at charts. Then she turned her attention back to Derek's unconscious face.

He looked... aged. Even in sleep, there were lines on his face, grey in his hair. He was so skinny. He looked fragile, something that she'd never seen in him before. She was scared that if she were to squeeze his hand too hard it would break into pieces.

A low sob escaped her mouth as she stroked his cheek. Irrational fears ran rampant through her mind- _he's not breathing, wait, no, there it is- he looks too pale- what if he forms a clot, remember Denny?_- and she wondered if this was how he'd felt after the ferry. She thought about the hovering, about the nights that he'd stayed up watching her, thinking that she didn't know that he wasn't sleeping.

"Okay, I'm done. I'll leave you here?" Hardy was at the door, hand on the knob. "He'll probably come around within the next hour or so, and if he does, tell one of the nurses. They'll page me."

Meredith nodded, her eyes drifting back to her McDreamy.

GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA

"Do you think we should-"

"No. Mer asked us for some time alone with him"

"But what if he doesn't want to see her? I mean, after the abortion, what if he..."

"He's not that much of an ass. He just went through a major traumatic event. He's going to want her there." Christina paused, took a deep breath. "If he doesn't, I'm going to go up there and kill him."

The three of them sat in Meredith's hospital room, returning to it because they couldn't think of anywhere else to wait. Callie had needed to work, and Burke had left only ten minutes before, after he'd composed himself; the news of Derek's successful surgery had sent him into a bout of joyful tears.

There was silence as they thought about what they would do now that the anxious wait was over, and finally, George spoke.

"What are we going to do with... Izzie?"

"What?" Christina asked.

"With her... body?" His voice broke.

Christina and Alex looked at one another; neither of them was the comforting type, and they were out of their element.

George continued, snuffling, "I claimed it, so... I mean, I'd make the... arrangements, but..."

"I'll do it," Christina and Alex said in unison. Alex shared another look with Christina and then said, "We'll do it, George. We'll take care of her."

He placed his hand on George's shoulder. George's hand came up to touch it, and all of a sudden, everything suddenly seemed like it could be repaired. Like they had everything they needed to fix this mess.

GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA

There. She was sure that his eyelids had flickered. It was the third time that she'd seen the tiny movement, and this time she was _sure_.

"Derek. Derek, wake up." Her voice was a whisper, and her breath tickled his cheek. She stroked his face with the hand that wasn't gripping his. "Come on, Derek, come on..."

His eyes flickered again, and her heart leap.

"Come _on_, Derek, wake up." She paused, and he shifted ever so slightly. Her insistent urging turned into something frenzied and desperate. "Derek, I love you, you have to wake up, come on, come on..."

He coughed and Meredith's torrent of words skidded to a halt. He struggled with his eyelids and then...

Deep blue eyes penetrated her very soul, taking away her breath.

"Derek?" she whispered.

He looked at her for a long moment, the expression on his face bewildering her. He looked... scared. No. He looked _terrified_. And then it morphed into horror.

"Meredith." His voice was hoarse, not even a whisper. But his eyes made it clear that something was wrong.

"Shh, it's okay, Derek, I'm here, everything's going to be alright."

"Meredith?" His words were stronger now, and they were filled with some kind of agitated incredulity.

"Baby, it's okay-"

"Get out." His voice was harsh.

"W-what?"

"Get out now, Meredith!" There was a kind of desperation in his voice that chilled her deep down, shocked her, tore her apart.

"But, Derek-"

"Go!" He was shouting now, pushing her away. His eyes were wide, blind.

A nurse came rushing into the room. "What's going on?"

"Who are you? Where... where am I?"

Tears were pouring down Meredith's face. "Derek, calm down!"

"Get out!!"

With a sob, she wheeled herself around and exited the room, the sound of Derek's disoriented cries following her down the hall.

"Dr. Shepherd, calm down!!"

_Couldn't you see that this was coming, Shepherd?_

_Oh, god..._

He struggled against the woman's arms, against her soothing tone. Where was he? What the hell was going on?

"Sir, if you don't calm down, we'll have to sedate you."

The words didn't register.

He saw Meredith's face in his mind and his entire being shuddered. She shouldn't be here, oh, god, why the hell was she here?

And then suddenly he was floating. He saw the nurse pulling away from his IV, another letting go of his now limp arms.

The last thing that he saw before he floated off into the rapidly advancing dark was Meredith's face, shocked and worried.

He felt a swell of satisfaction before unconsciousness claimed him.

GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA

She didn't know where she was going. She was barely aware of where she was, of anything other than the fact that he didn't want her.

His tortured expression drifted across the backdrop of her eyelids.

She didn't even realize that there were people in her room until her name was called in three different voices.

"Meredith? What are you doing back here? Why aren't you with-"

She bit back a sob and collapsed into herself. There were gentle hands on her shoulders, insistent prompts from her friends, but all she could focus on was his vehement screams for her to get out.

She didn't want to cry anymore. She wanted her friends to leave her alone, she just wanted- wanted...

"I... I just need a minute." Her voice broke twice, and she pushed away the hands and escaped into the small bathroom. She locked the door before she broke down, sobbing, unable to stop or quiet herself so her friends wouldn't hear.

When they finally lulled, she heard angry voices, Christina's being the loudest.

"-That asshole! I'm gonna-"

"No, Christina, he's already been completely beat up. You can't do much more to him."

"He's not dead yet, though, is he? I could kill him."

"Mer wouldn't want you to-"

"You think she can stop me? I'm not gonna sit here and watch him break her again."

"Christina!"

"Shut up, Bambi."

The door slammed before Meredith could say anything. She burst out of the bathroom, but Christina was gone.

She raced down the hall, not bothering to cover up her fury, not caring enough to swerve around nurses, just wanting to get to the room that held the heartless bastard who had just broken her best friend for the second time.

She was seeing red, everything was red. Her pulse thundered in her ears and her nails were cutting into the palms of her hands.

She veered away from the elevator, turning towards the stairwell, too angry to stand there as it crawled upwards. She took the stairs three at a time, causing two other doctors to jump out of her way to avoid being bowled over. She heard their irritated shouts, but they didn't register.

She kept seeing Meredith crumple in her wheelchair.

She'd been through so much in the past week, let alone the past year, all because of him. _Well, Izzie wasn't his fault._ A very small voice in the back of her head stated fearfully, but it was beaten into submission by the larger, much more passionate remainder of her brain. _He's done enough._

She was very grateful that the intern that had taken Meredith up had told her the room number in Christina's earshot. She paced along the hallway, searching for his room, missing it twice in her rage. And then finally, _finally_, she saw it. She stopped before the door, collecting herself, preparing herself. Not to control herself, to make sure she didn't hurt him, no. She wanted to make sure that she was able to tell him _exactly _why he was going to die.

She took a deep, steadying breath, and then she turned the knob.

Looking at him gave her a strange stab of satisfaction. He looked so... broken. Good. He deserved pain, deserved hurt.

Meredith's face was so small behind her eyes.

"Shepherd," she barked, slamming the foot of his bed with her open palm as she strode up to stand next to his head. He let out a garbled little moan of pain, and his eyelids flickered. "Shepherd. You are going to wake up. _Now._" There was steel in her voice, cold metal. "Now!"

His eyelids were fighting, struggling to open, and finally she saw dull blue, lifeless.

Satisfaction. She wanted him to be miserable.

He was confused; that was apparent. The way his brows furrowed ever so slightly, the way that his eyes lingered on Christina's face, then slowly travelled around the room, took in the walls, the door, the one shuttered window. His jaw worked for a moment, as though he couldn't quite work up the strength to open it. And then finally... finally...

"Where..." It was more of an exhalation than anything, a soft utterance of breath.

Blood boiled in Christina's veins. How dare he be so feeble, so pathetic. He'd broken Meredith, he'd lost the right to be a victim.

"What, Shepherd? Do you have something to say?" She drew a shuddering breath, hands shaking, trying to stop herself from grabbing him and beating him. "I'll just sit here and wait for all the important things you have to say. You're Dr. McDreamy, right? Everyone should just stand at attention for you."

He looked so confused, so... unsure. He looked up at her plaintively, begging her with those eyes to explain to him... what? What did he want from her?

"What did you expect, Shepherd? That I'd let you say whatever the hell you wanted to because some maniac got hold of you? Did you expect me to _care_?" She was so angry. She wanted to kill him, smother him. It would be so easy, he was so weak...

He let out a kind of croak, a strangled noise that could have been a word. She looked down at him with disdain as he tried to get out his question. And then...

"Where am I?"

"What?"

"Where..."

She let out a derisive laugh. "We're at the hospital, Shepherd."

"But... I..."

"What, Shepherd? Did the head trauma do permanent damage? Or are you just that stupid? I could believe that, actually," she added as an afterthought.

"We're... at the hospital?" His voice was raspy, but his eyes were clearer than they had been.

"_Yes_." She drew out the word, as though she were talking to an extremely stupid child. "Do you need me to spell it out for you?"

"Then... he's gone?"

"Who?"

"Young." He shuddered, suddenly quivering.

"Who?" The tedium of his questioning was irritating her. She shouldn't have to answer his questions. She was supposed to be murdering him.

"He... took me... I was coming home, I was... going to talk to Meredith and..." His eyes widened, and Christina's heart skipped a beat. "Is she, is Mer... Oh, God, no..."

He began to struggle against the sheets, moaning in pain as he twisted. Christina, startled, took a step back from the bed. "Where are you going?"

He looked up at her as though he'd forgotten that she was there. "I have to... Christina, where is she? Is she alright?" His voice broke. "How is she?"

The desperation in his voice rekindled the dying fire inside of her. "How is she? _How is she?!_ You bastard, if you think that I'm going to let you anywhere near her-"

"Oh, God. No. Christina..." His eyes were orbs of sheer panic. They grasped at her, quelling her. "Please tell me... tell me she's okay. That he didn't..."

She was about to start yelling again when his words sunk in. "What do you mean, 'he'?"

He swallowed hard, and she was stunned to see him fighting back tears. "She was there, earlier, she was there, and I told her to get out, but I can't remember... Please, Christina, tell me she got out, that he didn't get to her."

_I should have taken your Meredith from you. Then you'd understand._

He turned his mind back up to Meredith's best friend, but her expression was not something he'd expected. It was not grief, or anger, it was not reassuring, nor was it confused. It was something... he wasn't sure what it was.

"Oh," she murmured. "Oh."

He tried to pinpoint it, identify it. And then he realized what it was. Guilt. Shame. _But why?_

"What is it? Christina? Please, just tell me she's... that's she's gonna be alright."

"I thought..."

"What is it?" He wanted to get up, get out of the bed, and shake her, shake her until she said that _Meredith was okay_. She had to be okay, or he'd... oh, god, what was the point of living the rest of his life if Meredith wasn't in it?

But Christina was talking again.

"I thought, she just seemed so... and you... last time you, she was so... broken and I thought..."

"Christina!"

She looked up, startled, and then realized that she'd been talking out loud. She frowned at him. "What is it, Shepherd?"

"Where is Meredith?" he growled.

"She's in her room. Upstairs. Fourth floor."

He felt as though he'd been shot again. Blood was welling up, he couldn't breathe. He was drowning. "She's in the hospital?"

Christina took a quick glance at his face and said, "She was in a car accident a few days ago. She's been here ever since." She paused and added, "She has some broken bones, but nothing serious. She wasn't surgical, anyway."

He felt like laughing. Typical Yang. If you weren't surgical, you didn't need to pay it any attention. Suddenly the hole in his chest was gone, stitched up neatly and painlessly, and he felt lighter. He smiled, and looked up at Christina. And he noticed something... different.

She looked aged. Harder, if that was possible. More mature. And sadder. Something had happened when he was... gone.

But that vein of thought was dredging up disturbing memories, so he pushed it away. He looked around at the room, eyes wandering aimlessly, until something crossed his mind.

Yang had just told him that Meredith had been in a car accident, confined to the hospital for days. But he remembered her face, her voice. He remembered yelling at her to get out with a clarity that turned his insides to lead. If Meredith hadn't been at Young's dungeon, and she hadn't been a hallucination, then he'd...

_Oh, no._

"Yang." She looked at him, noted the sudden change to her last name. She nodded. "Has Meredith been to see me yet?"

She nodded, a bitter smile darkening her face.

"You were yelling at me before, before I'd told you that I thought I'd seen her at... where I've been."

Another nod.

"But she wasn't there. I didn't see her there. I saw her here."  
She didn't bother nodding this time. He didn't need confirmation.

"Damn it."

She smirked at him, a hard, humourless twitch of her lips. "Damn right, McDreamy."

GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA

They wanted to get her attention. They wanted to make her stop staring at the wall, to make her think of something else, anything other than her broken heart. But they weren't sure if that was better for her. If they drew her out of her misery now, she'd go into denial. She'd push back all her broken bits into a little box and swear that she was _fine._

And she was anything but fine.

So Alex and George just sat there, patting her arm, her shoulder, letting her know that she wasn't alone, passing glances at one another. _What do you think we should do?- I don't know, sit here?- Like that's gonna help anything.- You got a better idea?_

And then Christina burst back into the room. They both shot up, glaring at her.

George stepped forward and hissed, "How could you leave us alone with her like that? You're her best friend, we didn't-"

"Meredith," she barked, ignoring him and the aggravated look that he shot at her. Meredith's eyes hadn't faltered from their dazed gaze. "Mer. Wake up!"

She stepped forward and shook the shattered woman.

"Christina!! What the hell's the matter with you?!"Alex demanded, outraged.

"Meredith. Don't be a victim. You are going back down there and talk to Derek."

Suddenly, Meredith was wide awake. "_No._ Christina, no. Why? Why would you?" She was panicking, struggling against the restraining hands, against the thought of hearing him scream for her removal.

"Mer. You have to talk to him."

"But _why?_ He doesn't want to see me." _He doesn't want anything to do with me, _she thought to herself.

"Mer, he just had extensive surgery. He's been tortured and beaten and victimized. And he's on a lot of morphine."

"And? Even if he _was_ stoned out of his mind, he obviously didn't want me there."

"That's where you're wrong, Mer. That's why," she released the brake on the wheelchair and turned Meredith around in one swift motion. "You are going to see him," she finished.

"But what if-"

"No. I was about to kill the man. And he's not dead. Which means he wants to see you."

And with that, she kicked the door open and shoved Meredith through it, leaving behind a very confused Alex and George.

_And it's all good if you would stop the world from making sense,  
And if I could just realize it doesn't really matter._

* * *

**And so ends chapter nine. I've got really nothing to say about it, so I guess I'll just end with-**

**Review. Share the love.**


	10. Vindicated

**Disclaimer: I do not and never will own Grey's Anatomy. The song 'Vindicated' belongs to Dashboard Confessional.**

**I apologize profusely for the wait. It was ridiculously long and I feel really bad about leaving you guys like that.**

**This is the last real 'chapter', and it was so hard for me to write. I hate endings, and I find the happy stuff hard to write. The epilogue will be up within a week, and then I'm going to start my new fic, Two Beds And A Coffee Machine.**

**I hope you enjoy it.**

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_Hope dangles on a string_

_Like slow-spinning redemption._

_Winding in and winding out;_

_The shine of it has caught my eye._

"I'm going to throw up."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

They were in the elevator, travelling down to what Meredith was beginning to feel would be the end of her. His screams of _'Get out! Get out!'_ were chasing one another around her head, driving her crazy, making her nauseous. Christina looked down at her lowered head and rolled her eyes.

"Shut up, Meredith. You're not going to throw up. You're going to be nice and quiet while you wait for me to push you back to your boyfriend."

A long pause.

"I _am_ going to be sick."

"What part of 'shut up' was confusing?"

"The part where you expected me to let you take me back peacefully."

Christina sighed and squatted down next to the wheelchair. "I know you're worried about the whole... baby thing." She looked appraisingly into her feeble friend's eyes and continued. "But the whole time I was talking to him-" Meredith snorted, and the corners of Christina's mouth twitched. "Okay, yelling at him," she amended, "he kept asking for you. It was kind of pathetic, actually."

"Then why did he freak out when he saw me before?" she asked miserably.

Christina let out a long breath and rose to her feet. "He was... confused. He thought you were... in danger."

Meredith craned her neck around to look at her. "What?"

"Mer, he's on so much morphine that he thought he was still... wherever he was." She frowned, frustrated at the fact that no one could tell her where he'd been. And she hadn't been able to bring herself to ask Derek himself.

The elevator stopped, and the doors opened to their floor.

"Ready?"

"Do you care?"

She grinned and pushed Meredith into the hall. "Not really."

As they glided over tiles and past open doors, Meredith felt the anxiety of that morning multiplying, screaming at her to _run_, but Christina was in charge of where she was going to go.

She was helpless. And for that she was almost grateful, because she knew that if no one forced her back to Derek, she'd never fix this. If there was one thing that Meredith knew about Meredith, it was that she was an avoider. If it were up to her, she'd dodge and weave herself out of her problems until she was backed into a corner.

So she was glad that today, it wasn't up to her.

She looked up, retreating from her thoughts, to see a door, much like the others. A door that sent all feelings of gratitude and acceptance scattering. She slammed the brake.

"Meredith!" Christina hissed.

"Just-" Meredith paused, cleared her raspy throat, and said, "Just give me a minute."

"Meredith-"

"I said give me a minute!"

She wanted badly to pace, to vent her worry on the clean stretches of hospital tile, but one glance at her plaster leg blasted that idea out of the water. She sat there, thinking, thinking...

"Mer?" Christina asked several minutes later.

"Mmm?"

"Are you ready?"

"I... don't know."

Christina sighed and said, "You really want _another_ pep talk?"

"Yeah."

"You get that it's not my thing, right?"

"Yeah."

"Alright." She crouched by Meredith and brushed off her clothes. Cracked her neck. Looked around as though checking to make sure no one was watching. And finally...

"Do you love him?"

Meredith looked up at her, startled. Then she looked down. "Yes," she whispered.

"Do you think he loves you?"

"Yes. I don't know. I... maybe."

"Mer, I know that your life has sucked. Your mom was a bitch and your dad was... I get that. And you're afraid of trusting him because everyone in your life has left you. Including him." She looked into Meredith's eyes for confirmation and found it. "I know that I haven't been... supportive about him. But Mer," She grabbed Meredith's hands, "He makes you happy. And I'm your person. I want you to be happy."

Meredith's eyes were brimming with unshed tears, but she didn't move to brush them away. She didn't want to let go of Christina's hands. "Okay," she whispered.

"Okay?"

She nodded, and tears spilled. But they weren't the same kind of tears that had been shed so often in days past. They were touched tears. Tears of joyful emotion. Tears of love.

"Okay."

And then the door was open and they were through. There he was, back in his drug-induced sleep, just as beaten, but somehow...

There was a slight furrow between his brows. Lines in the corners of his eyes, like he couldn't stop worrying about... something.

_You!_, her mind shrieked at her. _He's worrying about you when he should be resting and getting better!_ But she brushed it away, dismissed it as nothing.

"Do you want me to stay?" Christina asked.

"I..." she paused, debating. If she had a buffer, then she wouldn't have to talk about... her decision. She wouldn't have to debate it with him, wouldn't have to fight. She was about to say yes when the stupid voice in the back of her head spoke up.

_But you have to talk to him. Wasn't that the point of coming back in the first place?_

She hated that voice.

"Could you wait in the hall? In case I need you?"

Christina nodded, understanding her in a way that only she could.

And then they were alone. Meredith and Derek. Like it was supposed to be.

She inched her wheelchair closer, hesitant. What if's were parading through her mind, making her head spin. She wanted to turn around, to retreat as fast as her crippled leg would take her.

But memories. Memories flooded her, nostalgia taking her back, back, back to a time when kisses were like habits, when love-filled glances and caressing touches were the norm. And the more she reminisced, the more reasonable the 'Derek-loves-Meredith' theory seemed. Almost... acceptable. Almost... believable.

There had been a time when Meredith had taken his love for granted, a thing that just _was_. That had been just before Addison. After Addison, even after prom, and Finn, and taking it slow, she'd never gotten back that feeling of everyday adoration. He treated her just as he had before, like she was something to worship, but she'd never stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the other secret wife to pop out, for her world to crash again. But now...

She remembered the moment that she'd fallen for him perfectly. It had been when they'd been wheeling Mr. Levangie, the Parkinson's patient, back to his room. Derek had told her that he'd been trying to protect her from Bailey, and she'd said that she could take care of herself.

_I got myself into this mess and I'll..._

_And you'll get yourself out?_

_I don't... know that yet._

She hadn't been able to break it off, to stop seeing him. And then she just... knew. She was suddenly _in love_, and nothing could reverse or stop it. So she'd surrendered herself to it.

She hadn't let herself just love him in so long... and now she had almost lost him.

She moved closer to the bed, closer, until her plaster leg was pressed up against the hard metal frame.

She sat there for the better part of an hour, just looking at him. She didn't touch him, didn't move to take his hand. She was afraid, still, of what he would say, and she didn't want to risk physical contact, lest it wake him faster.

But wake he did.

It was gradual, like waking up should be. He drifted back up to the surface, and she watched him with bated breath. She saw his eyelids flickering, his jaw working, his brow dip further down ever so slightly, and then, then...

His eyes cracked open, and for the second time that day, she saw his deep blue eyes. He looked at her for a long moment. Just... looked at her. And then he recognized her.

"Mer," he muttered, her name slurred slightly by sleep and morphine. The corners of his mouth tipped upward, into a smile that made her feel as though her heart would burst.

"Hey." Her voice cracked, even though she was whispering.

He frowned, and his hand wandered across the sheets like a new kitten, deaf, blind, and helpless, searching feebly for her. He found her hand and whispered, "I'm sorry."

She looked down at her hand in his own, fighting against ambushing tears.

"Mer?"

"I... oh, god!" She collapsed into herself, sobbing, clinging to his hand as though he were her lifeline.

"Mer," he whispered urgently, suddenly scared, irrationally scared, but scared nevertheless, for her. "What is it?"

"Just," she choked out, "Just g-give me a m-minute."

So he sat there, helpless, watching her fall apart.

And though she rocked back and forth and moaned and shook, she never let go of his hand. She gripped it so hard, in fact, that somewhere in Derek's foggy mind, he was grateful for the painkillers pulsing through his system. But he didn't pull away, didn't gently hint at her maybe holding him less tightly, because he was past caring about bruises that he wouldn't feel until later. God knew that he was already so damaged that he wouldn't be able to register that pain past all his other hurts. But beyond that, beyond himself, was the real reason; Everything, all his attention, his whole world, was Meredith, and if Meredith needed him, he didn't need circulation.

Forever, it seemed, they sat like that. Her, sobbing, and he, face contorted with concern, hand steadily turning purple-blue. Eventually, Meredith's tears began to slow, her sobs to quiet. She straightened up, and wiped her eyes with her free hand. She gave him a tremulous smile, and he stroked the back of her hand with his. She looked down at his blood deprived hand and tried to let go, but he wouldn't release her.

"Derek-"

"Just... let me look at you. I wanna look at you." He sighed, tightened his grip, frowning. "I thought I'd never see you again."

Her eyes filled with tears again. Her mouth opened, but the words she wanted didn't come out. She struggled with what she was going to ask, not sure if she'd be able to withstand the answer, but she needed to know...

"Where were you?" she finally asked in a tone that was braced for the worst. Because she was so afraid that the answer would be something like 'clearing my head' or 'getting some space'. And if it was, what did it mean? And what if it meant that they... that they wouldn't be...

"I... Meredith, I wasn't hiding from you. I wasn't... I wanted to see you so badly."

Relief. Sweet relief. She was about to grin and kiss him hard when she saw the haunted look on his face. Like he was remembering the most terrifying nightmare."What is it?" she asked, leaning forward to run her free hand down his cheek. "What's wrong?"

"I...," he started, then shook his head. "Not now."

She considered arguing, pushing him, but the look on his face... no. She would wait for him to want to tell her. "Okay." Then she bent down and kissed him.

It was soft, this kiss, full of hesitation and uncertainty. She was afraid, afraid of being rejected, afraid of startling him, out of it as he was. She didn't want to push him, to force him to kiss her back, and so when her lips met his, they brushed his and didn't ask for more.

But more he took. He pressed his mouth up against hers, taking from her what she was afraid to ask for. The heart monitor beat out a jagged rhythm as her free hand ran up into his hair and his moved to her cheek. When she pulled back, it was only to lean gently upon him, panting.

"I love you," she whispered, and his breath caught.

"You- you haven't said that since..." _Before I chose Addison_, were the unspoken words, but he didn't dare conjure her into this room. Not when everything was so, well, not perfect- he was unable to get out of bed and she- she...

"Mer, why are you in a wheelchair?" he asked suddenly, a frightened edge in his words.

Meredith's eyes widened and she looked a little panicked. "I thought- I thought Christina had... told you. I was- we were, there was a... a car accident..."

And just as Derek remembered Christina's barely-an-explanation, Meredith was crying again.

"What is it?"

"I wasn't- I wasn't- I, I..." The guilt was eating her up, the guilt, the guilt. All her fault, all her fault. A sick mantra, winding around her mind like a vulture, waiting to swoop down and swallow her whole.

_Izzie._

"I killed Izzie, Derek. It's my fault. My f-f-fault!" She tore her hand from his and wheeled her wheelchair away.

"What do you mean? Meredith? Izzie's... dead?"

"It's my fault! I'm so... so... If I hadn't been drunk, hadn't been trying to drown my fucking problems, she'd still be, still be... here." She hated herself. She was suddenly consumed with self-loathing. She'd been in shock, in grief, at the beginning, and then she'd, like always, like her own problems take away any other concerns she had about anyone else. How could she? How... how could she do that? What was wrong with her?

"I killed her, Derek. It's my fault."

"Meredith, what are you talking about?"

"I was drunk, Derek. Drunk, and Izzie came to pick me up. She'd probably gotten sick of me coming home drunk around three every night for a week, so she went to get me. And the car crashed. She's dead, Derek. Dead, and it's my fault."

She ended her self-deprecating rant suddenly, letting the room fall into shocked silence. She let the shrapnel of her tirade clatter upon the floor, eyes overflowing quietly. She didn't turn back to see his horrified expression. She couldn't bear it.

He stared at her turned back, not comprehending, unable to register her words...

_Izzie... dead... Meredith's fault..._

What?

Error. Does not compute.

_Meredith... killed Izzie?_

No. No, it wasn't her. And even if it was her fault, it really wasn't.

_Drowning her problems... a week. _

She was not to blame.

"Meredith?" She saw her visibly flinch. He tried again. "Meredith."

No response. Not that he expected one.

"Meredith, if you're not going to look at me, at least listen." Still nothing. "I... Meredith, this was not your fault." He saw her shoulders stiffen. At least she was listening. "No. _No._ Yes, she was driving you. Driving you home because she loved you."

Meredith was still unresponsive.

"It's not your fault, Mer. It's... mine."

"What?" she asked flatly.

"I... you... you thought I'd left you and... you were trying to cope."

"What?" More emotion this time. She turned around to look at him accusingly. "What are you saying?"

"It's not your fault. It's mine. Me, for making you feel like you had to... to drink to cope. It's-"

"No!" she shrieked, rocketing back over to the bed. "No, no, no, no! Don't you dare, Derek! I don't- I don't know where you've been or what the hell happened to you, but..." She stopped, struggling for the right words. "I watched you go into that trauma bay not breathing. I held your hand while they were yelling out all the things that had been done to you. Don't you dare make yourself feel guilty for Izzie when you're like this."

Derek looked into her eyes for a long time, searching. And then finally he smiled at her. Gently, like he used to before the ferry. It was a solace to her, a balm on her sudden bout of self-loathing. "So what now? If I'm not to blame because you said so, then Izzie can't be your fault either, because _I_ said so."

"Derek," she whispered softly, "It doesn't work like that."

"Then how does it work? Meredith, you can't let yourself feel guilty about everything, especially when it's not your fault. She was driving. Not you."

"Derek-"

"No," he whispered fiercely, cutting her off. "Don't try to argue this with me. You'll lose." He measured her again, assessing. "Alright?"

Her eyes said that she'd always feel guilty for the death of her friend.

His said that he knew. And that he'd be there for her whenever she needed him.

She leaned forward and rested her face against his shoulder. "Alright." They drew a deep breath in unison, and Derek turned his head and lay a kiss upon her forehead.

Hours passed, and as Derek slipped in and out of sleep, Meredith realized that there was one more thing that she needed to say to him. Something that she feared would destroy them, even after everything else.

"Derek." The sun had set, and the room was dark and peaceful.

Her heart was beating in her throat.

"Mmm?"

"Derek," she repeated, "Derek, there's one more thing that I have to say."

He was silent for a moment. Then-

"You didn't keep the baby."

She sat up straight. "How did you know?"

He smiled sadly up at her. "I knew you wouldn't. I know you, Mer. You're terrified of it. Having kids," he amended. "That night... after you told me, I went to Joe's. Got really drunk. But then I realized that it didn't matter. Well, it did matter, does, but I realized that all I need, everything I need to live, to _be, _Meredith, that's you. And if having you means no kids, then I don't need kids. All I need is you."

"Oh," she whispered, awestruck. Her eyes glittered with unshed tears. And then she grinned, tears spilling from her eyes. She leaned down to kiss him, unabashedly, unreservedly. When she pulled away, she spun around in her wheelchair and called, "Christina!"

She was through the door in less than three seconds. "What is it?" she asked, shooting Derek a threatening look.

"I need your help." She turned back to Derek and whispered, "Do you mind if I share your bed?"

He smiled, raising his eyebrows suggestively. "Whenever you want."

"Good." She turned back to her friend, who looked thoroughly confused. "Christina, I need you to help me into the bed."

"What?"

"There is no way that I can get this," she gestured down at her battered, plaster-covered self, "into that bed. So. Help me."

And with a great deal of sighing and complaining, she stepped forward to do so. First they had to move Derek over enough on the tiny, lumpy bed so Meredith wouldn't fall off. Then came the rearranging of tubes and lines. She helped Meredith to stand, mindful of her broken ribs and plaster leg. Then she scooped her up and lay her next to Derek.

"You owe me, " she said as she opened the door. When she received no snarky answer, she turned back and looked at them. And then she laughed. The two were deeply asleep, entwined in each other's arms. With one last bark of laughter, she let the door slip shut.

_And I am flawed but I am cleaning up so well;_

_I am seeing in me now the things you swore you saw yourself._

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